


Black Sails: The Old Guard

by lmharmon



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmharmon/pseuds/lmharmon
Summary: James, Thomas, and Miranda are immortals. After Thomas is cast into the sea by the English for interfering with the slave trade, James and Miranda go to New Providence, newly a pirate republic, to try and get revenge against England.
Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton
Comments: 12
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am only familiar with The Old Guard movie. I know nothing about the comics. If you're looking for something super-specific to the comics, this probably isn't for you. It's mostly going to follow the Black Sails plot, but from the perspective that James (Flint) is immortal.

**1695**

**Marshalsea Prison, London**

“What do you think they’ll try to do to us next?” Thomas asked.

James smiled. “Burn us alive, maybe?”

Thomas scrunched up his face. “Have we been burned alive before?”

“I think you’d remember if we’d been burned alive,” James said, laughing. 

They were chained up together in Marshalsea Prison in London, a prison notorious for housing those who had committed crimes at sea - notably pirates - and others accused of sedition. 

James and Thomas had been captured and sent to Marshalsea for a bit of both. For the last 140 years or so - though the English certainly did know that, specifically - they’d made a habit of capturing slave ships and turning them over to their imprisoned inhabitants - to do with the ship and their former captors as they pleased. 

They had been helped in this venture over the years by a variety of French, English, and Dutch abolitionists, most recently by the young English nobleman Peter Ashe. Though James and Thomas often kept their mortal associates at arm’s length, they had liked Peter. He was as kind as he was clever, and despite his own privilege, fiercely opposed increasing English - and European - control of the New World, and the world at large. He had been one of the few people they’d trusted enough to tell about their immortality. 

It had been Peter who had sent them the information about an English slave ship off the coast of Angola - with 240 kidnapped African men, women, and children. But when they had taken the ship, they’d been met by that number in well-armed English soldiers, who’d captured them instead and taken them back to England to be tried. 

After they’d been sentenced to death, Peter had come to visit them in Marshalsea, begging for their forgiveness. His father had found out that he was helping abolitionists and had him fed false information, to ensure his associates were captured. James and Thomas forgave him - he could not have known. 

“I wish there was some way I could get you out of here,” Peter had said. “I hate to think of what they’ll do to you when you survive the hanging.” 

“Don’t you worry about that,” Thomas had assured him. “We’ve survived worse.” 

And they had. But what the English put them through was certainly high on the list. They were beheaded, drawn and quartered, crushed, boiled, impaled, sawed in half, and even crucified. The only thing that had kept James and Thomas sane was that they were together. As they had always been. 

But they were not expecting what came next. 

Early one morning, the prison guards let a group of priests into their cell. Outside of the cell, they had rolled an iron coffin. 

The guards unchained Thomas and pulled him to his feet. Realizing what was about to happen, he tried to break free from them, but alone, he was no match. “No! No! No, not this! No!” he shouted. 

James fought against his own chains, desperately trying to break free. “Take me instead!” he pleaded. 

The guards and the priests ignored his pleas, though one priest did step in front of him and address him. “My name is Alfred Hamilton. I have been assigned to deal with your... case,” he said. “It is my determination that perhaps you are too powerful together. I believe that if we separate you, your demonic powers will fade and we’ll finally be able to kill you. Unfortunately, I don’t believe there can be any salvation for creatures such as yourselves.” 

“Please! No!” Thomas yelled. 

“Thomas!” James screamed. 

The guards shoved Thomas into the coffin and closed it around him. Through the opening for the face, Thomas continued to scream. It mixed with James’ own shouts. 

As quickly as they appeared, the guards and the priests disappeared down the prison corridor with Thomas in the coffin, leaving James alone in the cell. He could hear Thomas crying out for him. James tried again to break free, with no luck. 

After Thomas’ shouts had faded, James collapsed to the floor, sobbing. “No, no, no...”

\---

That night, the door to the cell opened again, this time to a friendly face. James looked up at the woman standing before him through tear-stained eyes. “Miranda,” he whispered. 

Miranda was like James and Thomas, though she was older than both of them combined. Since they had managed to find each other centuries ago, they had often stuck together, but on occasion, they would separate when they felt their aid was needed in more than one place. When James and Thomas had been captured, she had been in the West Indies helping to set up a maroon community on a remote island there. 

Shakily, James moved to a sitting position. “How...?”

“Peter wrote to me,” Miranda explained. She had taken a set of keys off of a guard and was fumbling through it, trying to find the right key to unchain him. “I got here as soon as I could.” 

James began to sob again. “Thomas...”

Miranda found the right key and removed James’ chains. “I know,” she said softly, rubbing his wrists where the metal had cut them, though they were already beginning to heal. 

“We have to find out what they did with him,” James said. 

Miranda hesisted. “I’ve already found that out. They put him on a ship called the Phoenix bound for the colonies. As I understand it, they intend to sink him to the bottom of the ocean somewhere along the journey.” 

“No!” James shouted. 

Miranda shushed him. “I may not have taken care of all the guards. We need to get out of here,” she said. She tried to pull James to his feet, but he wouldn’t budge. He continued to sit on the floor, head buried in his hands.

Miranda knelt down beside him and shook him. “James. You can’t help Thomas from a prison cell. I promise you, we will hunt down every single person on that ship until one of them tells us where he was cast off. But to do that, we need to leave. Now.” 

After a few moments, James nodded. He got to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said. 

\---

**Atlantic Ocean, Aboard the Phoenix**

Thomas had been placed in the cargo hold to await his fate. He had been told what they planned to do with him - send him to the bottom of the ocean at some undetermined point so no one would ever be able to find him. 

Thomas had tired himself out from shouting and had turned to quietly crying, his head rested against the back of the coffin, his eyes closed. He did not know how to prepare for what was to come. 

He heard the door to the hold open and footsteps approach the coffin. This must be it, he thought. 

But instead of being moved to the deck to be pushed overboard, Thomas heard the coffin begin to be unlocked. 

“Are you sure about this?” a voice asked. 

“Yes, I’m sure,” another voice said. 

The coffin opened. Thomas opened his eyes. 

Two men stood before him. One was in an English naval officer’s uniform, pointing a pistol at Thomas. The other, in plain clothes, smiled at Thomas and gently reached out to the officer and lowered his weapon. 

“You go by the name Thomas, is that correct?” the man in plain clothes asked. 

“Yes,” Thomas said, wary. 

“Would you mind joining me in my cabin?” the man asked. He reached out a hand toward Thomas, indicating it was okay for him to step out of the coffin. 

Thomas did so, eyeing the man with the pistol. He didn’t want to make any moves that might provoke him. He hated being shot. 

The two men led Thomas out of the cargo hold and to a small cabin, where he and the plain-clothed man stepped inside. “You can wait outside,” Plain-Clothes said to the officer. The officer started to object, but the door was shut in his face. 

The man turned to Thomas. “My name is James Oglethorpe-” he started. 

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Thomas interrupted.

Oglethorpe laughed. “No, I suppose not. But I have a proposition for you.”

Thomas furrowed his brow. “What sort of proposition?” 

“One that doesn’t see you drowning at the bottom of the ocean for all of eternity,” Oglethorpe replied. 

“Why do you care what happens to me?” Thomas asked.

Oglethorpe shrugged. “I heard what you did. You and your partner. Capturing the slave ships and turning them over to the prisoners. While I don’t agree with your methods, I do believe that slavery is a stain on humanity. That whatever you are, I don’t believe you’re the demon my fellow Englishmen seem to think you are. And that you don’t deserve this punishment they’ve dolled out for you.” 

Thomas crossed his arms. “So... what’s your proposition?”

“I’m a reform-minded man,” he said. “I am on my way to found a new colony south of Carolina, called Georgia. Instead of using slave labor there, like in the rest of the colonies, I intend to use convicts, to reform them. I would like you to be the first.” 

Thomas’ mouth twisted into a frown. “You want to make me your prisoner?”

“Is it better or worse than the coffin?” Oglethorpe asked. 

Thomas didn’t know what to say. Yes, of course it was better than the alternative. But... a prisoner? He would very likely outlast Oglethorpe and his prison and be able to escape at some point, but in the meantime... 

“What about James? My James?” Thomas asked. 

Oglethorpe shifted uncomfortably. “Is that your partner?”

“I think you know that it is,” Thomas said impatiently. 

Oglethorpe sighed. “He is back in London. I suspect they will keep trying to kill him until whatever ‘tie’ between you is severed. Is that possible? Is that how... this... works?”

“No, that’s not how this works,” Thomas said. He no longer wanted to be having this conversation. He wanted to curl into a ball and mourn for what James was, alone, experiencing, wait for the ship to dock, and then somehow make his way back to England. 

Oglethorpe seemed to know what he was thinking. “You won’t get very far if you try to get him out yourself. Once we are settled in Georgia, I will send someone back for him. I promise.” 

Thomas looked at him. He had no real reason to trust this man, but for the time being, he was the only thing standing between him and an unthinkable existence. Slowly, he nodded. “Okay,” he said.

\---

**1705**

**Spaniards Inn, London**

James punched the wall of their room. “Fuck,” he shouted.

They had just gotten back from interrogating another sailor who’d been on the Phoenix. As had been the case with everyone they’d spoken to, he had told them nothing. 

“That won’t help,” Miranda said. She was sitting on the bed, her shoulders slumped. 

“Nothing seems to help,” James said, continuing to yell.

They were quiet for a long time, the only sound being James' heavy breathing. 

Eventually, Miranda spoke. “Do you think... it might be time to stop looking?”

James paused for a moment, in shock, before he rounded on her. “Do I think-? How dare you ask me that!”

“James-”

“We cannot possibly imagine what he is going through-”

“What about what everyone else is going through?” Miranda shouted back. “What about the countless people who are being taken from their homes - as we speak - and carted across the ocean to be enslaved for the rest of their lives? What about the men and women who are being hanged for having what you and Thomas had for centuries? What about everyone else who will suffer because England doesn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves? Would Thomas want us wasting all our time looking for him, when we could be doing some good?” 

James stared at her, then looked away. He knew she was right. That didn’t make it easier. 

“There is an island in the West Indies,” Miranda continued. “New Providence. It’s just been taken over by pirates. We could start there.” 

“Start... what?” James asked.

Miranda looked up at him. “Start freeing the New World.” 

James’ eyes widened slightly. “You think...?”

“I think we ought to try,” Miranda said. She shifted positions and James saw her wince. He saw a spot of blood seep through her blouse near her right shoulder. 

“You’re bleeding,” James said, stunned. When they’d captured the sailor, he’d stabbed Miranda in an attempt to get free. James had thought nothing of it. They healed. They always did. Except...

“No...”

Miranda brought a hand up to cover the blood. “It appears I’ve lost my immortality,” she said. James couldn’t believe how calm she looked. 

“You can’t go to New Providence with me,” James said at once.

“Like hell I can’t,” Miranda snapped at him. “This was my idea. You can’t do it without me.” 

Again, James knew she was right. “Alright... but you have to stay out of harm’s way. I can’t lose you. Not you, too. Not yet. Promise me.” 

Miranda got up and walked over to James. She pressed their foreheads together. “I promise,” she said. 

They left for New Providence the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes places during Season 1 of Black Sails, but we only get glimpses of it through the dreams of an Original Character. ;)

**1715**

**Île Sainte-Marie, Kingdom of Madagascar**

Ras stirred. She opened her eyes and was alarmed to find that a sheet was covering her face. She brought a hand up to pull it down. She sat up and looked around her. 

She was in her bedroom, lying on her bed in her night clothes, which were sweaty and soiled. From the sun shining through the window, it appeared to be about midday. She was alone in the room, but she could hear what sounded like crying elsewhere in the house. 

Slowly, Ras got out of bed, wrapped a blanket around her dirty clothes, and made her way toward the noise. In the main room of the house, she found her mother, father, and sister sitting together holding hands, their faces soaked with tears. 

Her father and sister were facing away from her and did not see her, but her mother looked up when she entered the room. She screamed, jumping up from her chair. 

Her father and sister turned. When they saw her, they both gasped. 

“Rasoherina,” her father whispered. He usually only used her full name when he was angry with her, or very sad. In this moment, he didn’t look either. He looked scared. 

“What’s wrong?” Ras asked. She took a step toward him, but he held up a shaky hand, clearly wanting her to stay away. Ras stopped and looked helplessly at her sister. 

“You... you... died,” Rana said, eyes wide. 

Ras gave a nervous laugh. “Obviously, I didn’t.” 

“You were sick,” Rana said slowly. “You had a fever. We tried to treat you, but nothing worked. Do you remember?”

Ras furrowed her brow. She did remember. Bit and pieces, anyway. The chills, the sweating. She remembered feeling very weak and suddenly everything going black... and then she woke up with the sheet over her face. 

Ras smiled, though she was sure the expression didn’t reach her eyes. “I was just sleeping. I’m better now.” 

Her family was still staring at her in horror. 

She needed to get out of there. “I need to go to work,” she mumbled. She hurried back to her bedroom, stripped out of her dirty clothes, washed herself off, and changed into a blouse and skirt before leaving out the door. As she passed by her family again, none of them said anything to her or tried to stop her. 

She made her way through the stone pillars and stone wall that marked the entrance to her family’s small estate and onto the dirt road that led into Ambodifotatra, the main town on Île Sainte-Marie. 

Île Sainte-Marie was an island off the coast of Madagascar’s mainland, with Ambodifotatra the only port. Because no European power held the island, and because of its location not far from the maritime routes used by ships going to and from the East Indies, pirates often used the island as a home base to rest and repair their ships and, when the time was right, to attack. 

Pirates were also the main patrons of the tavern where Ras worked. 

As she stepped inside, the owner of the tavern, Dama, stepped out of his office. He looked surprised when he saw Ras. “I heard you were sick,” he said.

“I got better,” Ras said over her shoulder as she walked away from him and toward the bar to start her shift. 

Her friend, Avana, was already there and looked relieved when she saw Ras, throwing her arms around her in a tight hug. When she pulled away, she said, “I went to see you yesterday and your sister said you probably weren’t going to make it.”

Ras gave Avana’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You know Rana. She always makes things sound worse than they actually are.” 

Avana snorted. Rana had a long history of being dramatic. “That’s true. Still, I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Ras said.

Ras spent most of her shift in a daze, trying to make sense of the events that happened earlier. Was it possible that she’d died, or had her family just overreacted? If she had died, how was she here now? And perhaps more importantly, why? 

Toward the end of her shift, as Ras was lighting candles to illuminate the tavern from the darkening sky outside, she absently reached her arm over one of the flames. She recoiled in pain, cradling her arm. Looking down, she saw a red, round burn mark on her wrist. Before she could even curse her own stupidity, Ras saw that the mark was slowly beginning to fade. The pain she felt diminished to a light tingle. After a minute, it was like nothing had happened at all. 

“What are you doing?” Avana asked. Ras looked up. Avana was standing there watching her holding her now-uninjured arm. 

Ras dropped her arms to her sides. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m still feeling a little unwell. Is it okay if I leave early? Can you finish up?” 

Looking worried, Avana nodded. “Of course. Do you want me to get someone to take you home?”

Ras shook her head. Trying to sound calm, she said, “No, I can make it on my own.”

Ras exited the tavern and headed home, her heart pounding in her chest. What was happening to her? 

\---

It was dark in her family’s home as she stepped inside. Normally, at least her father would still be awake to greet her, but tonight there was no one. The house was quiet. Whatever was going on with her, they must have decided it was best just to ignore it. 

Ras used her memory to navigate toward her bedroom. As she passed the kitchen, she paused. Tentatively, she stepped into it and felt around until she found a knife. She took it with her to her room. 

Once inside, she closed the door, lit a candle, and set on the edge of her bed. Before she could convince herself not to, she took the knife and slit her wrist. Blood started to pour out onto the floor beneath her. For a moment, Ras panicked, thinking she’d made a mistake, that the fatal wound she’d just given herself would not heal. 

But then it did. The blood stopped flowing out of her arm and the cut vanished. Only the blood that had already spilled remained. 

Ras’ head spun. She did not know how to feel. She had know way of knowing what this gift was, or if it was even a gift at all. She knew that it might have brought her back from the dead, given her another chance at life. For that, she was grateful. But... it couldn’t be that simple. Could it? 

She sat the knife on the table beside her bed and laid down, curling into a ball. She began to cry. For what exactly, she wasn’t sure. For the pain she’d caused - and was causing - her family? For all the unknowns that now stretched out before her? For the reason she’d been sick in the first place? Ras suspected it was a bit of all three. 

Eventually, she drifted off to sleep. She began to dream.

\---

First, she dreamed of a blond-haired man working in a field with a number of others. They were all wearing the same light-colored uniform. On the edge of the field were men in a different uniform holding muskets. Was it a prison? 

Next, she saw an Asian woman on a bay-colored horse emerging from a tree line and entering the path of what appeared to be a small army. Though she was clearly outnumbered and outmatched, with only a bow in her arms and a quiver at her hip, she pulled an arrow loose and took aim. 

The last dream was the clearest, but the most confusing. A man with auburn hair had a man with curly hair pressed up against a rock in some sort of confrontation. The man with auburn hair looked like he wanted to kill the other man, but something the man said stopped him. He eventually backed away, looking angry. 

Ras woke up frowning. The dreams had felt so real, as if she was peering into actual lives. But none of the people or places were familiar to her. The only thing she recognized were the clothes of the men in the last dream - they were dressed like pirates, like the men Ras saw in the tavern. But given that piracy existed all around the world, they could have been anywhere, if they even existed at all. 

Ras got out of bed and changed into fresh clothes, then headed out to the main room where her family was eating breakfast. The three of them looked up at her briefly before turning back to their food. Ras sighed. This was how it was going to be? She marched up to the table, watched her family tense as she did so, grabbed a piece of bread from the basket in the center and then retreated, opting to take her food elsewhere. 

Once outside, Ras wandered toward the crop fields, where she sat down in the grass, enjoying the morning sun. She had some work to do there before she had another shift at the tavern in the afternoon. After she finished her breakfast, she supposed she would get started early. Her family grew cassava, sweet potatoes, bananas, maize, and beans on their property. It was their primary source of income. She wondered if they’d come out to join her, or if she’d be forced to work alone. 

After some time, her family did come outside to begin work, but they kept their distance and did not speak to her. Ras wanted to shout at them, ask them how long they were going to treat her like this, but she wasn’t sure she’d like the answer, so she remained silent. 

When the morning ended and it was time for her to go to the tavern, she did so without a word. The shift was more uneventful than the day before and she came and went without any incidents, and returned home again to a dark house. 

That night, she dreamed of the same people she had the night before, but in different situations. The blond-haired man was sitting on a bench in a crowded room eating bread, cheese, and pork. The Asian woman was wiping blood off her face, though she didn’t appear to be injured. The auburn-haired man was in an office speaking with the curly haired-man again, with two other men and a woman. 

Ras wished she knew what these dreams meant. At the very least, she wished she had someone to talk to about them. She certainly couldn’t talk to her family. She could maybe talk to Avana, but she wouldn’t really understand unless Ras told her the whole story of how she’d possibly died and come back to life, which she didn’t want to do. 

So Ras kept the dreams to herself. 

The next two weeks passed much the same as the day after Ras had come back from the dead had. She worked, alone, on her family’s estate in the morning, then went to the tavern in the afternoon and evening. The dreams continued each night, though most of them weren’t noteworthy. She did, however, begin to believe that the people she was seeing were, in fact, real. Why else would they keep appearing to her? But this, of course, didn’t provide any answers as to the purpose they served. 

Then she saw something that piqued her curiosity. 

She saw the auburn-haired man, on a ship, get shot in the shoulder in what appeared to be some sort of mutiny. Then the ship was in a battle with another ship, which it seemed to be losing. Badly. The auburn-haired man ended up in the water, where he let himself sink. The curly-haired man saw this and went after him. He dragged both of them, with some effort, to a nearby beach. 

Once there, the curly haired-man pulled off the shirt and jacket of the other man, presumably to treat the shoulder wound. But there was no wound, only blood. He stared in disbelief. As other survivors of the battle began to approach the shore, the man tore off pieces of his own shirt, smeared blood on them, and fixed them to the front and back of the auburn-haired man’s shoulder. 

Ras sat bolt upright in bed. That man was like her. He could heal. 

Is that why she’d been dreaming of him? Him, and the others? Because they were the same? Was she supposed to find them? 

But how was she supposed to do that when all she had was a bunch of vague images? 

Ras went over to her desk, got a quill and parchment, and began writing down everything she’d seen in her dreams. Maybe once she had enough information, she could connect the dots and find at least one of them. 

She wasn’t sure if they’d be pleased to see her - if they even knew others like them existed - but she hoped they at least had more answers than she did.


	3. Chapter 3

**1715**

**Division Bay, Florida**

James was dreaming. He dreamed of a young, black woman working in a field. She was alone, but he could see an older woman - her mother, he thought - some distance away giving her the occasional wary glance. 

He had dreamed of this woman almost every night for the last two weeks. She was a newly born immortal, alone in the world and scared. Her situation seemed to be stable, if unpleasant, as far as James could tell, but that might only last for so long. He wished there was something he could do for her, try to seek her out, but at the moment, he had his own problems to deal with.

He shifted back to consciousness. He was laying on his side. He could feel warm sand beneath him and hot sun beating down on his bare skin. Someone had taken his shirt and jacket off. 

The gunshot wound...

He had felt it start to heal, even before he’d gone into the water. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since then, or how he’d ended up on a beach, but he was certain any traces of the wound would be gone by now.

The crew...

He opened his eyes and brought himself up to an elbow. He looked down at his shoulder. Someone had taken pieces of cloth, smeared them with blood, and pasted them to the front and back, over where the wound had been. It was not a poorly done job. At first glance, no one would question it. Only someone who knew better would think to wonder whether there was actually a wound underneath. 

But why would someone do that? 

James heard someone shift in the sand behind him. He turned to look. John Silver was sitting there, staring at him with wide eyes. 

Of course it was him, James thought. Fuck. 

But instead of saying anything about it, Silver just nodded down the beach. “They think it’ll be a while before she sails again,” he said. 

James followed his gaze. The Walrus, looking like it has seen much better days, had been beached not too far from them.

“In the meantime,” Silver continued, “you and I have been charged with provoking this whole mess.” 

Before James could respond, Dufresne walked up to them. 

“Why am I still alive? Why didn’t you kill me?” James asked him. If they’d already tried to properly kill him, he doubted he’d be lying there with only Silver to guard him. 

Dufresne hesitated, then glanced at Silver. “Get him up,” he instructed. 

As Dufresne walked away, Silver got to his feet. He came to stand beside James and extended a hand to help him. When James swatted it away, he said, “Remember you’re supposed to be injured.” 

As if James had no practice with this. Of course, Silver didn’t know that. Not to what extent, anyway. Reluctantly, he took Silver’s hand, and with feigned effort, he got to his feet. “You might want to tell that to your face,” James commented. 

Silver frowned.

“You look terrified,” James said. “It doesn’t suit the situation.” 

“How does looking terrified not suit the situation?” Silver asked a little too loudly. Several crewmen not too far down the beach turned and looked.

“Some amount of fear might be reasonable,” James said in a pointedly hushed voice. “But you look like you’ve seen someone rise from the dead.” 

“Haven’t I?” Silver asked cautiously, quietly. 

James sighed. He wasn’t having this conversation right now. Preferably not at all.

He reached for his tattered shirt and gingerly slipped it over his head, covering his shoulder, then followed after Dufresne. 

Silver came up to walk beside him. Instead of continuing on the same topic, Silver said, “I told you I was certain about my information regarding the Urca. Unfortunately, you and I failed to take into account the weather.” 

James turned and gave him a questioning look. In response, Silver gave him a mischievous smile, pointed up ahead, and kept walking. 

James rolled his eyes. At least he doesn’t look so frightened now, he thought. 

Dufresne led James, Silver, and several other crewmen to a bluff. Down from the bluff, on a different stretch of beach from where the Walrus had ended up, the Urca de Lima sat, shipwrecked. 

“The Urca de Lima wrecked at sea last night. Dashed by the storm,” Silver said, as if James couldn’t already see that. 

But that wasn’t the only thing on the beach. The gold - the gold they’d come there for - was lying about, with Spanish soldiers gathering it up, presumably getting it ready to eventually be transported to another ship, possibly to the Man O’ War sitting in the bay. 

James stood staring out at it all for a bit too long. 

“Captain,” Silver prompted him. 

“Captain. Captain, before we’re seen...” he said, grabbing James by his ‘good’ shoulder and pulling him to the ground.

“Don’t call him that,” Dufresne snapped at Silver. Then he turned to James. “Well?” he said. 

James decided to play dumb. “Well what?” 

“That crimes you’ve committed against your crew are undisputed,” Dufresne said. “The only reason the sentence hasn’t been carried out is that I’ve been delaying the vote in hopes that you might help me find a way to get that gold, or as much of it as possible, off the beach.” 

James could feel the anger boiling up inside of him. “Why would I do that?” 

“Because if you do, I’ll personally guarantee your sentences are commuted,” Dufresne answered. 

No captain had that much power, James knew. “You’ll guarantee that, will you?” 

“You underestimate your men yet again,” Dufresne insisted. “They will hear reason, especially when it comes from a voice they can trust. The men feel they’re entitled to leave this ordeal with something to show for-”

James had heard enough. “Fuck those men. Fuck them for their shortsightedness. Fuck them for their ingratitude. And fuck them for siding with a cowardly, sniveling shit of a mutineer. There are over 100 soldiers on that beach, sworn upon their lives to protect that gold. In a matter of hours, they’ll dispatch teams to search for threats. In a matter of days, they’ll locate our wreck and our camp, and they will kill every last member of your crew. And they’ll deserve it, none more so than you.” 

Dufresne took off his glasses. James could see the quiet fury in his eyes. “Bring them back,” he said to the other crewmen. “We’ll ready the nooses.” 

Well, this should be interesting, James thought. It had been a while since he’d been hanged. Twenty years...

He looked out to the bay, to the Man O’ War. When he’d gone overboard, off the Walrus, he’d hoped to be caught by some sort of debris and dragged to the bottom of the sea, to suffer the same fate as Thomas. He hadn’t, at that point, thought there was another way to continue his crusade against England. So why carry on? 

But as he stared out at the Spanish warship, an idea began to formulate. “Wait,” he called. 

\---

Back on the beach where the Walrus crew had made their camp, James addressed the men. Though there was no way, at this point, for them to steal the gold off the beach, they could feasibly steal the warship. After some dissent, everyone seemed to agree that it was the best way for them to get out of their current situation, given the state of the Walrus. 

“Now the risk,” James said, “falls almost entirely on the two men out who got out to secure the ship. I would volunteer in exchange for your pardon. That leaves one man to go. One volunteer-” 

“I’ll do it,” a voice behind James said. He turned. It was Silver, raising his hand like an idiot. Fuck. 

“I’ll- I’ll go,” Silver said again, under James’ threatening gaze. 

James groaned. 

“Then let’s put Mr. Flint’s plan to a vote. All in favor?” Dufresne asked. 

“Aye!” a majority of the men shouted. 

\---

They found a spot further down the beach, closer to where the Man O’ War was anchored. 

“Once the mainmast watch has been eliminated, hoist your signal,” Dufresne said. “If there is no signal before the reinforcements for the night’s watch depart the beach, I’ll assume failure and begin our escape down the coast.” 

“What if the signal is in time?” James asked.

“Then we’ll launch our assault,” Dufresne answered. “But there is something about which I want to be very clear. Even in success, you will be expelled from the crew, cast out. Are we understood?”

James simply nodded. He had some ideas about that, too. 

Dufresne handed James a cutlass, then he and his men headed back toward the camp, leaving James alone with Silver. 

James looked at the other man and his stupid smiling face in disgust. “You shit,” he said. 

Silver looked genuinely confused. “Um, beg pardon?” 

“I needed a fighter, someone I could count on to make a difference on that ship,” James said as he sat down to take off his boots. “What the fuck were you doing volunteering?” 

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused,” Silver said, again stating the obvious. “Why wouldn’t I volunteer? If we’re to try and-” Silver stopped. He seemed to realize something. “Hang on. You’re serious about taking the ship?” 

For someone who was clearly very smart, Silver was also very stupid. “What the fuck did you think?” James asked. 

“I thought this was how you intended to escape,” Silver said, suddenly panicked. He began to ramble, “Sure, it would be a few days of walking or so to St. Augustine, but at least we’d have a chance. You really mean to board that ship. Jesus Christ. I’m not doing it. I don’t need to return to Nassau. I am happy to find some other place to survive.” 

Silver began walking south. James shook his head. “St. Augustine is that way,” James said, pointing north. “It’s at least a week on foot, Tequesta tribes in between. I doubt you’ll survive to see sunrise tomorrow.”

Barefoot and with cutlass in hand, James began walking toward the water. 

“Aren’t you going to wait until Dufresne and his men are a bit farther away before you start swimming?” Silver called after him. “You can’t swim with one arm.” 

James looked over his shoulder at the retreating backs of the Walrus crew. “They’re far enough away,” he said dismissively. He’d been a pirate for a long time, an immortal for even longer. Rarely did anyone bother to notice that something was off, unless they actually saw a serious wound disappear.

Like Silver had. Which, James had to admit, he was handling pretty well, all things considered. He looked more petrified at the prospect of boarding a Spanish warship than he had when James had woken up beside him on the beach, after he had pretended to patch James up. 

James waded far enough into the water and began to swim. 

\---

When he arrived at the Man O’ War, he saw that Silver had followed him. James was almost impressed. Of course, he would never admit it. 

“Do as I say when I say, or I’ll kill you myself,” James said. He grabbed onto the rope and climbed. 

Once inside, he looked around the dark room and saw that he’d entered through the sleeping quarters, which, instead of being largely empty as he’d suspected, were almost completely full with sleeping Spanish sailors. Fuck. 

As Silver came in behind him, he said, “Well, that was easy.”

James pressed a hand over his mouth before he could say more. When Silver looked at him, James nodded into the room. He slowly took his hand away.

Silver turned. James heard his sharp intake of breath and knew the other man was starting to regret his decision. 

They began to slowly creep through the rows of hammocks. When they were almost out, James turned and saw Silver leaning over one of the Spaniards, reaching for something. 

James saw the hammock shift and began to backpedal. Before the man could cry out, he covered his mouth and drove the cutlass into his throat. 

A bottle of rum in the man’s hand rolled to the floor. Silver quickly dove down and grabbed it before it brushed against the man in the next hammock. James would have been grateful for Silver’s quick reflexes if the incident hadn’t been his fault. 

James grabbed Silver by the shirt and pulled him the rest of the way out of the sleeping quarters. Outside, he pressed Silver against the wall, cutlass at his throat. 

“Wait,” Silver breathed.

“You could have ruined this whole endeavor,” James hissed at him. 

“But I didn’t,” Silver said. 

“For a fucking bauble!” 

Silver held up his hand, waving a small whistle in James’ face. He started to ramble again, “It’s a boatswain’s whistle. Look. Doesn’t it make more sense for us to prompt the lookout to come down, than for us to go up there after him? You are truly amazing, you know that? We’re both better off now than we were two minutes ago, yet you’re angry about it because it didn’t happen your way. Might you consider for a fucking moment that your distrust of me is completely unwarranted? I warned you about Billy. When I found you over Mr. Gates’ body, I did nothing but defend you. When you were sinking to the bottom of the sea, I went after you and dragged you onto the beach. Brace yourself, but I might be the only person within a hundred miles of here who is actually on your side.”

Before James could respond, he heard men above them on the deck speaking Spanish. He tilted his head, trying to make out what they were saying, but before he could process it, there were footsteps on the stairs leading down to where he and Silver were standing. 

James quickly lowered the cutlass, grabbed Silver’s hand, and led them into what seemed to be a small larder to their left. He closed the door behind them carefully, trying not to make a sound. As the footsteps grew closer, James motioned for him and Silver to hide behind the barrels and burlap sacks at the back of the space. 

While he’d have much rather attacked than hid, with the number of men currently on the ship, they couldn’t risk making too much noise and starting a fight they couldn’t actually win. 

The footsteps paused outside the larder door and James heard voices, unfortunately too quiet to discern. There was a bit of movement and then the scrape of chairs against the floor. The talking continued. 

Fuck. Whoever was out there planned to stay awhile. 

Silver nudged him. “What do we do?” he mouthed when James turned to look at him. 

James leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. “We wait until they go away,” he said in a low voice.

Silver sat down beside him. James was staring into the space straight ahead of him, but he could feel Silver’s eyes on him. James glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and saw Silver open and close his mouth several times. 

“What is it?” James asked. But knew what was coming. 

Silver hesitated. “It’s just... you were shot. I know you were shot. There are bullet holes in your clothes. There was blood. But when I went to tend to you, there was nothing there. I can only assume you healed somehow. I don’t know what that makes you... Not human.” 

James rubbed his eyes. “I’m human.” 

“Then how...?”

James yawned, as if bored. “Look, does it matter? The only reason you’re here is because you’re interested in the gold. The only reason you pretended to patch me up and didn’t tell the other men what you saw is because you know I’m useful to you in that regard. Whether I’m human or not is ultimately irrelevant.”

Silver probably wanted to argue, but James closed his eyes, pretending to drift off to sleep. James did not owe this man the truth, and did not wish to share it with him. 

They sat in silence for some time before they finally heard the men outside move on. 

\---

James, Silver, and the rest of the Walrus crew successfully stole the warship and sailed it out of the bay. Within a few days, James had regained his captaincy, and Silver had improved his own prospects by regaling the crew with humorous, daily accounts of goings-on on the ship. 

By the time they returned to Nassau, things were looking up. That was, until they found out that Charles Vane and his men had taken over the fort, and James had to make the difficult decision to occupy the harbor and threaten to bomb the fort. Silver assisted him in this chaos by ensuring that as many men on the island were on Captain Flint’s side as possible, including back-from-the-dead Billy Bones, in addition to assigning and sending two men back to Division Bay to watch the Urca gold while the situation in Nassau was dealt with. 

Through all of this, Silver didn’t mention James’ miraculous healing abilities once. James was sure it would come up again, but hopefully not for some time. 

There was too much going on to have to deal with that, too.

\---

**Barlow Estate, New Providence Island**

In the early hours of the morning, Miranda heard a knock at her door. When she opened it, she found Pastor Lambrick standing on her doorstep. She tried to hide her annoyance. It had been a long time since she’d had much patience for religious men, and Lambrick and his constant visits were no exception. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? 

“Pastor,” Miranda said in greeting, as politely as she could. “It’s before dawn.” 

“I don’t sleep anymore,” Lambrick explained. 

Miranda wanted to roll her eyes and slam the door in his face. Instead, she invited him in. 

Once he was inside, Lambrick continued speaking, “I’ve seen you at my service. I’ve kept my distance, but I’ve seen you there. Heard of your efforts to join our community. To make a fresh start. I’ve wanted to believe it to be true. After- after what happened between you and I, I wanted to believe that as vile as the act was, perhaps it was born of a misguided desire on your part to change your ways. To seek a more virtuous path.” 

Miranda sighed. ‘What happened between you and I’. They had sex. Was it really so hard to say? 

But she had not slept with Lambrick out of some ridiculous wish to acquire better morals. He had been questioning how she and James had come to New Providence, and she had slept with him in an attempt to distract him. It had worked, for that particular subject, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to probe into other things. 

“I do seek a more virtuous path,” Miranda lied. 

“Then why am I also hearing that you’ve been receiving Mr. Guthrie’s daughter?” Lambrick asked. “Making requests of Mr. Underhill on her behalf?” 

It’s none of your goddamn business. “You don’t understand.” 

“I understand more than you think, ma’am,” Lambrick said. “I’ve been to town today. I hear that one of the thieves on the beach, the one who holds the fort, desirous of impressing her, assaulted another. Killed him. And in a display for all to see, mounted his severed head on a spike. Were this not monstrous enough, talk is it was all in service of stealing a young girl intended to be ransomed to her father. None other than the governor of the Carolina colony. An upstanding, God-fearing man hundreds of leagues from here is unsafe from their brutality. These are Ms. Guthrie’s associates. There are the men on whose behalf you would act by doing her bidding. Men who seek profit through the most boundless, wanton, unrepentant barbarism. And I’m to believe that your desire to repent is genuine?” 

Miranda didn’t hear Lambrick’s question. She’d stopped listening when he had mentioned the governor of the Carolina colony. “Lord Ashe?” 

Lambrick looked annoyed that that was all she had to say to his sermon. “What?” 

“The governor in Carolina, it is Lord Peter Ashe, is it not?” Miranda asked. 

“I believe so...” Lambrick said, looking confused. 

“Lord Ashe’s daughter, what is her name?” Miranda asked herself. Even before she’d become mortal, she’d begun building a spy network across Europe and the New World to inform her of everything that was going on. One of the letters she’d received had mentioned that Peter had gotten married and had a child, a daughter. 

“Mrs. Barlow, what difference does her name make?” Lambrick asked. 

“Abigail,” Miranda said, remembering. “Her name is Abigail Ashe.” 

That’s when she heard the cannon fire. James had made good on his promise to fire on the fort if Vane and his men didn’t surrender it. 

“I have to tell James Abigail is in there,” Miranda said at once. She was out the door before Lambrick knew what was happening. 

“Please,” Lambrick said, suddenly hurrying after her. He grabbed her arm and stepped into the path in front of her, stopping her. “Please, stop. Surely you must realize this is a fruitless errand. The time for conciliation is well past.”

Miranda jerked her arm out of his grasp and went around him. “I must try.” 

“Why?” Lambrick asked. 

Miranda paused and turned back to look at Lambrick. “I’m the only one who can stop him, Pastor. I’m the only one who knows why he’s doing it.” 

With that, she readied her horse and cart and made her way to Nassau. 

\---

**Nassau, New Providence Island**

Miranda found James on the main street leading into Nassau from the port. 

“What are you doing here?” James asked her. 

“I need to speak with you alone,” Miranda said. 

James shook his head. “You need to leave here right now. I will see you when I am able.” 

“I have come upon some information which changes things for us,” Miranda said. “You must not continue to move against that fort.” 

“Miranda, you don’t understand what’s going on,” Flint said. 

Miranda clenched her fists. Though it had initially been her idea to come to New Providence, once she became sidelined because of her mortality, the venture largely became James’ creation. 

But that didn’t mean she was oblivious, or that she wasn’t still invested. 

“I understand why we need that fort,” Miranda said impatiently. “I understand why we need that gold. I understand why we need this island. I understand it all because I was the one who decided to begin all this. Don’t you forget that. Now, I am asking you to come with me so that I can share with you what I’ve discovered.”

\---

Miranda led them to Eleanor Guthrie’s tavern, where she asked one of the employees to fetch Eleanor from her office. 

“I have Flint here,” Miranda said when Eleanor came to meet her. “It would be best if we could be alone.” 

Eleanor nodded. “You can use the parlor upstairs.” 

As Miranda made her way up the stairs, James trailing behind her, she heard Eleanor shout to the patrons of the tavern, “Everyone out. Now!”

People started to get up from their seats, grumbling.

Probably for the best, Miranda thought. 

Once they were alone, Miranda started, “While you were gone, Captain Vane and his men slaughtered another pirate crew in the bay. There are whispers it was to avenge an offense against Eleanor Guthrie. There are also whispers that it was to steal a hostage being held by that crew. A girl who is now held in that fort. A girl who is now in harm’s way.”

“You pulled me away from my men out of concern for a girl?” James asked. He didn’t look pleased. 

“That girl’s name is Abigail Ashe,” Miranda said. 

James furrowed his brow, faint recognition in his eyes. Miranda had told him about the letter. “Peter’s daughter?”

“You need to obtain her from Captain Vane,” Miranda said. “Alive and unharmed. And you need to return her to Carolina, to her father.”

“I understand you have feelings over the girl’s welfare, however-”

“When you return her,” Miranda interrupted, “you’re going to explain to Peter what it is you are trying to accomplish here. A Nassau that is independent of outside rule, one that doesn’t have to worry about which European power is going to try to attack it next. To prove to the rest of the New World that Europe is not needed here. The vision all four of us once shared. I understand that Peter’s views have changed since then, certainly since he became the governor of an English colony, but I can’t imagine he’s changed so much that we won’t be able to persuade him to help us again.”

James didn’t look convinced. “You really believe that?” 

“Yes,” Miranda said firmly. 

“And what exactly is it you expect him to do?” James asked. 

“The reason we began working with Peter in the first place was because there was no one more skilled or effective at maneuvering both inside and outside of the system. If he wanted to find a way to make an independent Nassau possible, he could do it. You know he could do it,” Miranda said.

“That may be so, but you remember what happened before,” James said, his voice cracking. “We may be able to trust Peter, but not the people around him.” 

“It was a different time,” Miranda insisted, “with different people. We’ll be more careful this time.” 

“Miranda, Peter Ashe isn’t that man that you remember. You said it yourself. He’s governing an English colony now. The Peter we knew never would have done that. Not to mention that six months ago, he hanged four men in his harbor for possession of pirated goods. This is not a man we can work with,” James said. 

“Of course we can,” Miranda said. “Because we will have just presented him with his only daughter. Safe and unharmed and without conditions. And we will remind him that there is still good in this world. And that somewhere in his heart, he is, too.” 

“This is too important to put all our fates in the hands of one man,” James said. “Especially a man now so committed to seeing everyone we know hanged in his harbor.” 

“There is no other way to achieve what we want to achieve-”

“Yes, there is!” James shouted. “It is sitting on a beach filled with Spanish soldiers, and I’m through delaying.” 

“There is no other way once you’re willing to tell the truth about your intentions here,” Miranda yelled back at him. 

“I think that I’ve made my intentions very clear,” James said. 

“No,” Miranda said. “You’ve been anything but clear. You say you fight for the sake of Nassau, for the sake of your men, for the sake of the New World, for the sake of Thomas and his memory. But the truth of the matter is, it isn’t for any of those things.” 

“What the fuck do you think I am fighting for?” James asked.

“I think you’re fighting for the sake of fighting. Because it’s the only state in which you can function anymore. The only way to keep that voice in your head from driving you mad,” Miranda said. 

“What are you talking about? What voice?”

“The one telling you to be ashamed of yourself for not having been able to stop Thomas from being dragged out of that cell,” Miranda said. “But James, you were in chains. You’re immortal, not all-powerful.”

James took a moment to process her words. Miranda couldn’t read his expression. When he spoke, quietly and evenly, he said, “The only thing I am ashamed of is that I didn’t do more to try to find him. That instead I listened to you.”

Miranda winced. She had stopped the search for Thomas because she’d realized it was futile. Even if they had been able to find out roughly where he’d been cast off, how would they have gotten to him? By drowning themselves repeatedly, trying to search through dark, murky water? She had not said these things to James, though she suspected that was a part of him that already knew them. 

She left the parlor without another word. 

As she was leaving, she passed Vane, armed and looking furious. He was headed back toward James. He paid Miranda no mind. 

Miranda paused. She could go after him herself, but she had not done much fighting since she’d become mortal, and her body wasn’t as young as it once was. She likely wouldn’t be much help. If Vane managed to inflict a fatal wound on either of them...

She went to find Eleanor. 

\---

Some time later, Miranda was called back to the parlor for a meeting with a disheveled James and Vane, as well as with Eleanor, and Eleanor’s father, Richard Guthrie. 

When Miranda had entered the room, James looked to her, an apology in his eyes. But Miranda was still upset with him and not ready to forgive him just yet. James seemed to see this in her expression, and quietly turned back to start the meeting. 

The purpose of the meeting was for James to persuade the other members of the group that returning Abigail Ashe, safe and sound, to Peter Ashe could be used to convince him to be an advocate for an independent Nassau in London, a Nassau that could become a lawful trading partner throughout the West Indies and beyond. 

The meeting did not go well. It ended with Vane refusing to hand Abigail over to James, and storming out. 

But as luck would have it, Eleanor went after him and somehow convinced him - or so she said - to give up Abigail, in exchange for James stopping any further attacks against the fort, Vane, or his men. James had not been happy, but he’d agreed.

After Eleanor had left to set the exchange into motion, James sought Miranda out. “You ought to go,” he said. “It’ll take me a while to straighten things out down here, but when I’m done, I’ll be home, if you’ll have me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Miranda said. 

“What?” 

“Abigail doesn’t know either of us, or Miss Guthrie, for that matter,” Miranda explained. “She wasn’t born until after our association with Peter had ended. She likely won’t be terribly willing to trust any of us, but she may be more inclined to trust other women. I would assume your plan would work best if she were cooperative in it, if she felt safe. There’s no better way to ensure that than having me be a part of it.” 

“Part of it? For how long?” James asked.

“I don’t know,” Miranda said. “Aren’t we all just figuring this out as we go? You need to remember that you’re not the only one committed to seeing Nassau become independent. I’ve stood aside for too long. You and I need to become partners again. Proper partners.” 

James smiled at her. “Very well,” he said. 

\---

That evening, Miranda sat alone in Eleanor’s tavern, staring into a cup of ale, waiting for her to return with Abigail. 

She heard footsteps approach the table and looked up. It was Mr. Guthrie. “No word?” he asked. 

“No, no word,” Miranda replied. 

Mr. Guthrie took a seat across from her. “If Eleanor says she’ll come down that hill with Abigail, she will.” He paused before saying, “I understand that once the girl is delivered, and Captain Flint’s set sail to return her to Charles Town that you intend to join them for the voyage. Is that true?” 

“With all due respect, Mr. Guthrie, what concern is it of yours?” Miranda asked. She had not liked this man when he was in her home and she did not like him now. What was it with men and thinking they needed to insert themselves into her life, pretend to care about her well-being? 

“Charles Town is not a place a lady such as yourself would ever have been to before,” Mr. Guthrie said. “It may appear to you to be a civilized place, but rest assured, it only appears that way. Governor Ashe and his militia are men of the most brutal kind when it comes to enforcement of the laws.” 

Miranda wasn’t sure how much more of this she could listen to. 

She saw movement at the door of the tavern and turned to look. Eleanor stepped inside, a young girl trailing behind her. 

Miranda immediately got up from the table and walked over to them.

“Hello, Abigail,” Miranda said to the girl. “My name is Miranda. I know you don’t know me, but I knew your father once. We were friends.” 

Abigail didn’t seem to question it. She fell into Miranda’s arms, sobbing. 

“I’ll send for Flint,” Eleanor said before walking away. 

\---

When James arrived in the tavern, he paused a few feet away from the table, uncertain. He had never been good around children. 

Miranda went to stand beside him. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?” 

He looked terrified, but he slowly made his way over to the table. He took off his sword belt and placed it against the wall. “Don’t be frightened,” he said. Miranda wasn’t sure if he was saying it to himself or to Abigail. 

“I’m a friend of your family’s,” James continued. “And I’m a friend of yours.” 

“You’re Captain Flint?” Abigail asked.

“Yes, but you can call me James,” James said. 

\---

**At Sea**

Sleeping aboard the ship on the first night of the journey, Miranda was awoken by a small yelp from the hammock next to hers, where Abigail slept. She got up and went over to her. The girl was sweaty and mumbling to herself. She appeared to be having a nightmare. 

Miranda shook the girl’s shoulder, trying to wake her up. When Abigail’s eyes popped open, Miranda tried to soothe her, “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here. Shh, you're alright.”

The girl rolled over and pretended to go back to sleep. Miranda was sure she didn’t. 

The next night, when Miranda suggested they go to bed, Abigail quickly said she wanted to stay awake for a bit longer and do some writing. 

Miranda suspected it was more than that, but decided not to say anything. Instead, she suggested that they go to James’ cabin, as the fading light of the day would make it difficult for her to keep writing on the deck. 

Abigail agreed, and Miranda got them situated inside, Abigail at James’ desk and Miranda herself sitting at the nearby table, reading a book. 

When James returned to the cabin, Abigail immediately stopped writing and closed her diary.

“Everything alright?” James asked her. 

“Yes,” Abigail said quietly. “I’m alright.”

She got up from the desk, clutching her diary to her chest, and slipped into the private room off the main room. 

Miranda considered going after her, to make sure she really was alright, but James took a seat at the table next to her. 

“She was writing about me,” James said.

Miranda glanced up from her book. “Do you think?”

“I suppose I can’t blame her,” James continued. “A girl her age with what she’s been through. It’s a credit to her that she can function at all.”

Miranda put down her book and gazed at the door Abigail exited through. “When I first learned she was on the island, the vision I created in my head was of a much younger child, though I knew she must be about fifteen or so. She’s a child, but almost a woman. I can’t even remember being that age anymore. I can barely remember who I was even a hundred years ago. It all blends together after a while.” 

James reached out and squeezed her hand. “I remember you. Do you remember me?”

Miranda squeezed his hand back. “Yes,” she said. He was kinder then, less angry. But Captain Flint was still mostly James. 

“So that’s in our favor,” he said, and laughed. 

Miranda joined him, then turned more serious. “But the real question is whether Peter will remember either one of us.”

James frowned. He did not have an answer. 

It was going to be a long way to Charles Town. 

\---

**Charles Town, Province of Carolina**

When they neared the Charles Town harbor, Abigail asked to meet with James and Miranda in private. She revealed that her father’s views had shifted so dramatically after he’d heard of the brutal murder of a priest by the name of Alfred Hamilton, a family friend, at the hands of a pirate named Captain Flint. 

The story Abigail relayed was true. Some time after James and Miranda had arrived in Nassau, Miranda received a letter from one of her spies, informing her that Alfred Hamilton, the priest responsible for Thomas’ fate, intended to travel to Carolina to start a parish there. Miranda had told James, and he’d left almost immediately to capture the ship, the Maria Aleyne, and kill the priest.

Abigail begged them not to go into Charles Town, to leave after she’d been returned. Miranda knew they couldn’t do that. 

Later, up on the deck as the crew was preparing to drop anchor, James pulled Miranda aside. 

“I’ve made arrangements,” he said. “You’ll be safe here until I return.”

“What are you talking about?” Miranda asked. “I’m going with you.”

James shook his head. “You heard what Abigail said. It’s too dangerous.” 

“If I’m standing next to you, he’s far more likely to see you as the man you were,” Miranda argued. “He doesn’t know that I had anything to do with Alfred Hamilton.”

“No, but he can see that you’re abetting a known pirate. He may not think he can kill either of us, but that doesn’t mean he won’t think of an equally horrible punishment,” James said. Miranda knew he was thinking of Thomas. “I see no reason for you to take that risk,” he continued. He did not say, “Because you can actually die.” 

“Of course there is reason-”

“None that I am willing to take-”

“It was my fault,” Miranda said firmly. “Whether Peter knows it or not, I’m the one who learned Alfred Hamilton was a passenger on that ship. I knew the moment I told you what it would drive you to do. I knew the danger it would put you in, knew the horrors it would incite. I told myself to remain silent and spare him, spare you those horrors, and yet I told you anyway. If you’re going to face judgement behind those walls, then so should I, for if anyone is responsible for what happened that day, it’s me.” 

Miranda joined James and Abigail on the longboat that took them to shore. 

\---

As they walked down the main street of Charles Town toward the Governor's Mansion, Colonel Rhett, the commander of the Charles Town Militia, and his men initially seemed friendly enough. But out of nowhere, they began to attack James, pulling Miranda out of the way.

“No,” Miranda yelled. “The governor is a friend!”

Rhett dismissed her. “The governor gave very specific instructions.”

“No, don’t!”

“If we were able to get our hands on Captain Vane, he never leaves this place again. I don’t see any reason those instructions don’t apply to you, too,” Rhett said to James. “If anything-”

“Stop!” Abigail shouted. Everyone paused and turned to look at her. “They’re telling the truth. He’s an old friend of my father’s. I remember him. I know him. And if you strike him again my father will know you did so after I made this clear to you.”

Miranda wondered what was causing the girl to side with them, why she’d decided to warn her and James about Peter, why she was defending - and lying for - James now. 

Miranda had seen her on the ship watching the pirates. She seemed fascinated by them, surprising considering her past experiences with Captains Low and Vane and their crews. 

But Miranda knew James didn’t tolerate the sort of behavior from his crew that those captains did. Perhaps the girl had begun to become disillusioned with the stories she’d been told, that all pirates were bad. 

Whatever the case, Abigail had just made their day a lot easier. Rhett and his men backed off and led them to see Peter. 

\---

Under better circumstances, Peter’s expression when he saw James and made the connection that James and Captain Flint were the same person would have been priceless. He was finally able to connect the dots of why Alfred Hamilton had been so cruelly killed. 

“Welcome to Charles Town,” Peter said after he’d recovered. He directed them to his office, where they seated themselves. Rhett stood at the door. 

When Peter didn’t seem to know what more to say, James spoke up, “We’ve come here to share with you a proposal. A proposal that I have come a long way to make. I know that you will likely find it, at first, implausible. However, I ask that you remember that-”

Peter raised a hand to silence him. “I love my daughter. More than life itself. When I received that despicable letter from Charles Vane, I was given to dark thoughts, rage. A desire to visit revenge upon those men that put her through that ordeal. It would seem only reasonable, then, that I bear an equal measure of gratitude to the man who rescued her from it. Were it not for that gratitude, you and I would not be speaking like this. You and Colonel Rhett would be having a very different conversation. Because while I knew you once, called you friends once, I cannot fathom how those people I knew turned into you.” 

“Ask me, then,” James said. “Anything you want to know. I will be truthful.”

Miranda glanced at Rhett. How truthful?, she wondered. 

Peter glanced at Rhett, too. “Anything?” 

James nodded.

“When did you first arrive in Nassau?” Peter asked.

“February 1706,” James replied.

Peter didn’t look like he believed him. “The first accounts of Captain Flint raiding shipping in the area began in June of that year. You became the captain of a pirate crew there that quickly?”

“Yes,” James said. “There were raids before that. June was when we claimed our first significant prize.” 

“How did you manage that so quickly?”

James shrugged. “I met a man in a tavern. Quartermaster of a well-respected crew. I persuaded him that I was someone worth listening to. A crew followed shortly thereafter.” 

“And how long after that was it that you decided to murder Alfred Hamilton?”

James opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Miranda cautiously stepped in, “I received a letter from a... friend of mine. She mentioned innocently that a new parish was to be set up in the Carolina colony, headed by a priest named Alfred Hamilton. She mentioned the name of the ship. I encouraged James to find him. And to kill him. If you’re going to blame anyone for it, please, blame me.” 

Miranda stood up to emphasize her point. Rhett cocked his pistol and stepped forward. 

“The governor may know who you are,” Rhett said, pointing his pistol at Miranda. “I only know what you are. Let us agree that if either one of you makes any further sudden movements, I will be forced to consider that you are making a threat to his person and I will shoot you where you stand.” 

James put his hand on Miranda’s back and encouraged her to sit back down. Miranda did so. 

James pressed forward, addressing Peter, “I cannot stand before you and claim to be without sin. When Thomas... died under Alfred Hamilton’s orders, it was too much for me to bear. I was angry. I allowed that anger to drive me to a dark deed. But I ask you not to judge me by that one deed. Judge me by the ends that I have come here in service of. The independence of Nassau in accordance with the principles that you and I and Miranda and Thomas committed ourselves to all those years ago. I ask nothing from you but your ear.” 

Peter seemed to consider this. Eventually he said, “I’m listening.”

\---

“Total independence?” Peter asked. “This is what you’re suggesting?” 

“The island currently has no colonial leadership, and the inhabitants wish for it to stay that way. We would like for England to give up it’s claim,” James said. 

“And I am to believe that 500 hardened pirate raiders will voluntarily step down and fall in line with this plan of yours to trade and interact with the other West Indian ships and ports as a lawful, self-governing people?” 

James shifted a bit in his seat. “Not all of them. A lot of them. Most of them. Enough to resist those that don’t. Enough to make it worth giving them a chance. I made an appeal to my crew of 100 men. And better than 70 of them are sitting right now just outside your harbor in full support of it. It is exactly the kind of thing we dreamed of.”

“Yes,” Peter said. “But then we were just talking about freeing slaves, giving them their independence back. We never thought of trying to accomplish anything this big.” 

“True,” James said, “But we also didn’t have both the most respected captain and the trade boss of the island saying they will see it enforced. Nor did we have a governor of a New World colony endorsing it, a man whose own father sat in that seat before him. We are in the perfect position to do this.”

Miranda frowned. She’d forgotten Peter’s father had been the governor of Carolina, as well. Philip Ashe. He had been the governor, and been in Carolina, when James and Thomas had been arrested and sent to Marshalsea prison all those years ago for attempting to free a slave ship.

Miranda remembered the letter Peter had sent her, informing her of the arrest. He had said that his father had been the one to ensure he received false information that would get James and Thomas captured. 

How had he done that all the way from Carolina? 

It was probably nothing. Maybe he’d planned it for months. 

Miranda tried to refocus on the present. 

Peter hadn’t spoken for a long time. He had walked over to the window and was staring out of it. James looked at Miranda nervously. 

At last, Peter said, “The first thing that they will ask for is a name.”

James looked confused. “A name?”

“New Providence will only ever succeed in independence insofar as England allows it to,” Peter said. “Were I to make this case to the men in London, the first question that they will ask is who will oversee all this? I know you say that you and this Eleanor Guthrie will enforce it, but do you actually expect Parliament to believe that? They will want someone reputable to stamp their name to this.” 

Miranda was barely listening. How had Philip Ashe known who to feed the information to? 

Before James could respond, or Miranda could finish her train of thought, someone knocked at the door to the office. 

“Yes?” Peter called.

The door opened and Abigail stepped inside. “Father, Mrs. Tyler says it’s time to turn the room over for dinner.” 

Peter nodded. “Please ask Mrs. Tyler to arrange a room for our guests to retire to in the interim.” 

He and Abigail exited the office, leaving Miranda and James alone. 

Miranda rubbed the back of her neck.

“Everything alright?” James asked her.

Miranda forced a smile and nodded. 

\---

Alone in a guest room in the Governor's Mansion, Miranda and James cleaned up for dinner.

“He doesn’t want to consider it,” James said while washing his hands. “He spent so many years hardening himself to these ideas. But I don’t think he can work out how to say no. If he says no, it means there’s a part of him that is no more. A part of him he doesn’t want to let go of.” 

Miranda sat on the edge of the bed, thinking. “Did you mean it? Earlier, you said that Captain Flint would help to enforce that Nassau would begin to operate lawfully once given its independence. You don’t intend to move on?” 

James paused. “Did I ever tell you where that name came from?” he asked. 

“No.” 

James fidgeted. “Long ago, when I was a boy, I was raised by my grandfather. He was a fisherman in Ribe, in Denmark, where I was born. When he himself was young, he was out on a boat alone one day in the North Sea, trying to catch enough fish to sell, when this man climbed onboard out of nowhere. A stranger. My grandfather didn’t know what the fuck to do or think. He just stood there. When the stranger approached him, he asked him for a little rum. So my grandfather gave him some, and the man said he’d fled the ship he’d been on after being accused of murder. He said his name was Mr. Flint. 

Mr. Flint never said whether he was guilty of the murder or how exactly he swam all the way to my grandfather’s boat. Eventually, he asked my grandfather for a little more rum. My grandfather turned to grab the bottle, and when he turned back, the man was gone. After my grandfather returned to the port, he asked around for a month or so, wondering if anyone had heard about a Mr. Flint. No one had. It was as if the sea had conjured that man out of nothing and then taken him back for some unknowable purpose.

When I first met Mr. Gates and he asked me my name... I feared the man I was about to create. I feared that someone born of suck dark things would consume me were I not careful. And I was determined only to wear him for a while and then dispose of him when his purpose was complete. And I thought of that story. But the thing is... I don’t think this story is over yet.” 

Miranda felt ill. She was thinking about Philip Ashe again. 

A knock came at the door. A servant stepped inside. “They’re ready for you downstairs,” he said. 

\---

In the dining room, Miranda, James, Peter, and Abigail ate dinner in silence, all of them uncertain how to navigate the strange situation they found themselves in.

It was James who decided to break it. “My lord,” he said to Peter. “I know there are many reasons to say no to this, however-” 

“Colonel Rhett,” Peter said.

Rhett, standing at his seemingly usual place by the door replied, “Yes, sir?”

“I’d like everyone to clear the room.”

Rhett looked uncertain. “Sir?”

“I’d like to speak with my guests privately for a moment. Wait in the hall, please.”

Rhett and his men departed, as did Abigail.

“I believe there is a way that I can help you achieve your intentions for the future of Nassau. And I am ready to do it,” Peter said. “However, my plan will require an act of you, James, if it is to succeed. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.” 

“Okay...” James said cautiously. 

Peter continued, “There are men in London who could potentially find a proposal such as yours to be plausible. On religious grounds, on economic grounds. I know some of these men. You could almost certainly win them to your side. But there are other men who will oppose it categorically for the same reason all men refuse to do things they should. Pride.” 

“You think they’re too proud to let go of Nassau?” James asked. 

“I think they fear you,” Peter said. “And to capitulate to something one fears is a humiliation that powerful men cannot accept. If we are to persuade them to ally with this cause, then we have to completely define their understanding of who you are, what you are.” 

James raised an eyebrow. “How do you propose we do that?” 

“With the truth,” Peter replied. “I will go to Nassau, to act as a voice England will trust. But first, you and I must sail to London. When we arrive, you will stand up and you will tell your story.” 

“My story? What part of my story?”

Peter looked James in the eye. “All of it,” he said. “You will tell them how you and Thomas ended up in Marshalsea Prison. You will tell them why, exactly, you became so enraged about Thomas being cast into the sea that you were driven to kill a well-respected English priest. You will reveal everything. And when you do, they will realize Captain Flint is not your typical pirate, but a truly otherworldly monster. This should make it easier for them to trust the others to keep their word. I’m not sure what they will do to you at that point. But... you’d be getting what you wanted. An independent Nassau.” 

James stood up, turned to face away from them. “What you’re asking of me...” He didn’t seem to know how to finish the thought. 

“I wish there were another way,” Peter said, “but I have given it a great deal of thought and I cannot find it. Tell me this is something that you are willing to do, and you and I will walk out of this house together, announce our partnership to the street, and prepare to set sail.” 

James turned back around. He slowly walked around the table to Peter and extended his hand. 

Miranda could not allow this. 

“Your father,” Miranda said. “How did he discover that you were assisting with the abolitionist movement?”

James turned to Miranda. His hand dropped to his side. 

Peter blinked. “What?”

Miranda clenched her fists. “During the time you would have received the information that got James and Thomas arrested, your father was here, in Carolina. Even if he had found out that you were a secret abolitionist, how would he have known who your contacts were? Surely none of them would have told anyone, out of fear for their own lives. So I ask again, how did Philip Ashe discover that you were assisting with the abolitionist movement?”

Peter hesitated. “I confided in a friend of mine, who told his father, and his father wrote to my father. There were only so many people who could have provided the information I was getting. He had them all tracked down until someone confessed. Then he had them lie to me the next time I approached them.”

Miranda shook her head. “You weren’t that stupid. You wouldn’t have carelessly told someone like that.” 

Peter visibly panicked, trying to search for another lie. When he could not find one, his shoulders slumped. “I wanted a seat in Parliament. I thought... once I had the seat, I’d be able to do more for the movement. I believed I could get a powerful member, Henry Gray, to advocate for me, but I needed to do something to get him to trust me. He was concerned about the number of slave ships being captured, so I... I told him about James and Thomas. And where to find them.” 

Peter looked between Miranda and James. “You have to know that my intentions were good. I thought I could help more people in the long run... Perhaps this, our meeting now, is an opportunity for us all to find a little forgiveness.” 

Miranda sneered. “Forgiveness? What forgiveness are you entitled to while you stand back in the shadows pushing James out in front of the world to be laid bear for the sake of the truth? Tell me, sir, when does the truth about your sins come to light?” 

“You know nothing of my sins!” Peter shouted at her. “You don’t know what it was like. Philip Ashe may have been my father, but he never loved me, never respected me. I may have had the privilege of being born into a noble family, but nothing but title gave me advantage. If I wanted to get anywhere, make any sort of difference, I actually had to make others - like Lord Gray - see that I was worthy. My father wouldn’t lift a finger.”

Peter turned to James. “I am so very sorry for what you have suffered, for what... Thomas is suffering. Please believe that. But at this point, the most important thing is what comes next, what we make of this.”

Miranda stood up. “How dare you!” 

James glanced toward the door. “Miranda,” he said in warning. 

Miranda ignored him. “Thomas will likely spend the rest of his life alone, in a cold, dark place because you-”

“I have said I am sorry. What more do you want from me?” Peter asked.

Miranda took a step toward Peter. “What do I want? I want to see this whole goddamn city, your city, burn. I want to see you hanged on the very gallows you’ve used to hang men for crimes far slighter than this. I want to see that noose around your neck and I want to pull the fucking level with my own two hands!” 

There was a gunshot.

\---

Something wet hit James’ face and his eyes automatically shut. When he opened them again, he saw Rhett holding a smoking pistol. He heard Peter gasp. 

Two of Rhett’s men barged into the room. 

Peter was still staring at Miranda. “Why isn’t she...?” He turned and looked at James. “She hasn’t...?” 

James had no interest in answering him. He charged toward Rhett. 

“Do not shoot him,” Peter said to the men. “Don’t shoot!”

James slammed Rhett against the wall. The men began hitting him with the butts of their muskets. Eventually, he fell to the ground beside Miranda. He stared at her lifeless body. His own body went numb.

Above them, he saw the vague shape of Abigail Ashe enter the room. She screamed. 

Everything went black.


	4. Chapter 4

**1715**

**Île Sainte-Marie, Kingdom of Madagascar**

Ras walked the road into town feeling unsettled.

Over the last few weeks, she had continued having dreams about the blond-haired man, the Asian woman, and the auburn-haired man. The dreams with the blond-haired man and the Asian woman were fairly consistent - the blond man was still in prison and the woman was still fighting off some sort of army. The dreams about the auburn-haired man, on the other hand, led her through a wild series of events that she didn’t fully understand. 

Last night, she had dreamed that he had been having dinner in a large house with a man who looked to be of importance, given the number of guards around him. At the dinner was also a brown-haired woman. Ras wasn’t sure of the exact nature of the relationship, but she had appeared in many of the dreams and was very close with the auburn-haired man. 

At one point in the dinner, everyone in the room had exited save for the important man, the auburn-haired man, and the brown-haired woman. Whatever they were discussing had begun cordially enough, but after several minutes, the woman began shouting and one of the guards had returned to the room and shot her in the head. 

Ras wasn’t sure what to make of this, why she would have been shot just for yelling. She was unarmed and clearly no real threat. 

Ras could only assume the auburn-haired man would be devastated. She hoped he had someone to comfort him, though she had not seen that he was that close with many other people. Perhaps the curly-haired man, who he seemed to be slowly developing a friendship with, despite the man knowing about his healing abilities. 

Given all this, Ras realized it was probably an inappropriate time to be thinking about the fact that she still hadn’t found any useful information in the dreams that would help her to locate any of these people. She wished that she could hear what they were saying - instead, she was just shown silent scenes, or sometimes images, that could have been happening in a million different places. 

She was starting to believe that she was never going to get any answers about what was happening to her. 

When she walked into the tavern to start her shift, she only got a few feet inside before she saw something that made her already dark mood even worse. 

Captain Malachi Rowe and members of his crew were in the tavern enjoying a drink after a long stint at sea. They all froze when they saw her. 

Shit.

Whether it was because of her illness or the fact that she’d died and come back to life, Ras had forgotten about the events that had transpired just before she’d gotten sick.

During one of her shifts in the tavern, she had gone to serve drinks to Rowe and his men in a private room. She had not known that she was not supposed to enter, that only Dama, the owner of the tavern, was allowed to serve them. She had walked in on them discussing a plan to intercept a Mughal Empire trading ship carrying gold, silver, and jewels. Not surprisingly, they had not been happy. 

Ras had quickly tried to leave the room, pretending like she hadn’t seen or heard anything. Unfortunately, Rowe wasn’t taking any chances. He sent one of his men after her. The man had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out of the tavern and into an alley. She thought he might stab her, but instead, he pulled out a bottle of what she’d thought was wine and forced her to drink. She’d tried to fight him off, but he’d been stronger than her, and determined. 

Within the hour, Ras had begun to feel ill. The wine must have been poisoned. They had not wanted to arouse suspicion, so they’d seemingly planned to deal with anyone who found out about their plan by making it look like they’d died of a random illness. 

That was smart. It was a small island. Someone would have figured it out. 

Ras wondered what Rowe and this crew thought now, seeing her standing there alive and well. She saw Rowe and the man he’d sent to kill exchange glances. 

She tried to hurry past them to the bar, but the man who’d tried - technically successfully - to kill her stepped in front of her. 

“I need to speak with you,” he said.

He led her outside to the same alley he’d taken her to before. 

This time, she was unafraid.

“I didn’t tell anyone about your treasure,” she said impatiently. 

“Good,” he said, then plunged a knife into her stomach.

The man watched as Ras collapsed to the ground, bleeding out. As she started to black out, she saw him start to walk away.

Ras sat up with a gasp. The wound was starting to heal. 

The man turned to look. “What the hell?”

Ras laughed and slowly got to her feet. “It’s not going to be so easy for you this time.” 

The man walked back toward her and stabbed her again. 

Ras fell to the ground again, started to black out again, woke up again, healing.

The man tried once more. When the same thing happened, he grabbed her by the shirt and took her through the alleys down to the port, where he dumped her in a longboat and rowed her out to one of the ships anchored off the coast, presumably Rowe’s. 

Ras refused to climb onto the ship.

“If you don’t, I’ll put a rope around your neck and drag you up,” the man threatened. 

Reluctantly, Ras boarded the ship.

Once onboard, the man took her down into the ship and locked her in a cell in the brig. “We’ll see what the captain wants to do with you,” he said, and left, leaving Ras alone. 

After several hours, the door to the brig opened again and the captain himself stepped inside. He looked at Ras, looked at the blood staining her clothes, and grabbed a stool from the corner and brought it to sit outside her cell.

Rowe was one of the more well-known captains on the island, having first come there a few decades prior, before Ras was even born, and worked his way up from a boy swabbing the decks to one of the most feared pirates in the East Indies. Though pirates were often depicted as having long hair and beards, Rowe was as bald and clean-shaven as he was tall, towering over even the tallest of men, making him look like a giant on the small stool he now sat on. His clothes were expensive, though they were clearly well-traveled. He wore a gold chain around his neck and a sword at this hip. 

“Elliot says you can’t die,” Rowe said to Ras. 

“Is that the bastard you sent to kill me?” Ras asked.

Rowe laughed. “It is.” He paused before saying, “I’ve heard about people like you. Some twenty years ago, maybe longer, there were two white men who sailed off the west coast of Africa, capturing slave ships and setting the prisoners free. Surviving crew members swore if you shot them, they’d fall, get right back up, and come at you again. It’s unclear what happened to them...”

This piqued Ras’ interest. Could he be talking about the men she’d been dreaming about? 

“In any case,” Rowe continued, “Elliot says you claimed not to have told anyone. I can believe that’s true, seeing as none of the other crews have caused us any trouble since we’ve gotten back. But... we can’t have that changing. We’ve had a bit of trouble finding a merchant to sell to, given the... sensitive nature of our cargo. We’re going to have to go up to the Somali States, to Harardhere, to see if an old contact of mine there can help us. Which means you’re going to have to sail with us for a bit.” 

While she wasn’t thrilled about being locked in a cage, Ras found that she didn’t really care. Her family hadn’t warmed up to her any, and she’d always hated her job in the tavern. Maybe this was for the best.

Especially if she could get Rowe to tell her more about the men he’d spoken of. 

“Don’t worry,” Rowe said with a smile. “We’ll drop you back off here once we’ve gotten everything sorted.”

Ras wasn’t sure if she believed him, but what else were they going to do to her? Kill her? 

\---

It took about a month to reach Harardhere. 

During that time, Ras had not been let out of her cell, though she had been brought fresh clothes, along with a chamber pot, a washcloth, a sponge, fresh water, as well as three meals a day. 

She was not treated badly, though it was clear that some of the crew members asked to tend to her weren’t sure why she was there, often mumbling that she was a waste of time, though they showed up everyday like clockwork. Whatever specific orders they had been given, they must have been afraid not to follow them. 

During that same time-frame in her dreams, the auburn-haired man had gone on a rampage. He and his men - Ras believed he was the captain of a pirate ship - had begun going from place to place and murdering anyone that opposed them. Ras assumed this must be revenge for what had happened to his friend. 

After Rowe and his men had been in Harardhere for about a week, she was informed that the ship wouldn’t be going directly back to Île Sainte-Marie; they had gotten a tip on a ship they wanted to pursue.

Though Ras had few details about the previous ship they’d captured, she could only imagine that the gold, silver, and jewels they’d gotten from it could have seen the whole crew retire. So, why were they still on the account? What did they need so much money for? 

Another month passed before she got an answer, when Rowe came to see her again. 

“I do apologize for keeping you in here so long,” Rowe said, sitting down on the same too-small stool again. “I would let you out, now that our business has been taken care of, but I’m not sure how the crew would take that. Why suddenly let a prisoner free? Too many questions...”

Rowe fiddled with the rings on his fingers. “We do have a good reason for doing all of this. I wonder... if I told you what we were doing... would you be more forgiving?” 

Rowe went on to say that he and his men were trying to establish a free colony, a colony existing outside any current leadership or rule. A place where all people, regardless of color, creed, or belief could live without scrutiny. To do that, they needed money. A lot of it. 

“If you’d told me that, you wouldn’t have needed to keep me in a cage,” Ras snapped at him. The idea sounded far-fetched, but at least it was admirable. 

Rowe chuckled. “That may be so. But we don’t know you, I don’t know you.” 

“And where do you plan on setting up this colony?” Ras asked.

Rowe grinned. “Madagascar, of course.”

\---

A little over a month later, the ship finally made it back to Île Sainte-Marie.

When Ras was let out of the cell, Rowe said to her, “I don’t suspect the crew will give you any trouble, but you may want to find a job other than in the tavern.”

“I doubt I have a job in the tavern anymore, anyway,” Ras said, stretching. 

As she boarded a longboat to go to shore, she thought about the more recent dreams she’d had about her auburn-haired pirate captain. 

After Rowe’s ship had left Harardhere, Ras had dreamed that the other captain and his crew had survived a violent storm only to be stuck in the doldrums for nearly a month. When they finally caught some wind, they ended up on an island where they were attacked by people who appeared to be of African descent. 

Ras had begun to believe that he must be somewhere in the West Indies - all of the islands he had visited during his rampage were tropical and had largely white populations (that she could see), so there weren’t a lot of options. Still, these dreams gave her pause. She had heard well-traveled pirates mention maroon communities of escaped slaves throughout the Americas. Perhaps that was what they had stumbled upon. It would explain why they’d been put in cages.

Somehow, they’d eventually gotten out of the cages and formed some sort of alliance with the maroons. In the last dream Ras had had, the pirates and maroons were preparing for a battle on the island. 

Ras wondered why the auburn-haired man was doing all of this, why he seemed to be the driving force behind everything that was happening. She had never gotten around to asking Rowe if he had any more information about the men he’d heard about all those years ago. On the few occasions he’d come to speak to her, he’d done most of the talking. It was hard to get a word in edgewise. 

Maybe she would just have to ask the man herself. 

Ras considered whether she could ask Rowe - a captain she actually knew - if she could join his crew. He’d likely say no, given his concern for what his crew would think, but she figured she should at least try. 

She had to make her way to the West Indies somehow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter switches back and forth between James' (Flint's) perspective and Silver's perspective.
> 
> As in the previous chapters, James refers to himself as James, but in Silver's sections, he refers to James as Flint. I hope that isn't too confusing!

**1715**

**Maroon Island**

It was the middle of the night and James was in the forest on Maroon Island digging a hole to bury the Urca cache in. It was the eve of battle, and it needed to be somewhere safe. 

Silver was with him. To James’ surprise, the Maroon Queen had nominated Silver as the one she respected and trusted to know the location on behalf of the maroons. If only she knew that not too long ago, Silver had betrayed his entire crew to try to keep that very same cache in his possession. 

The other man watched him dig from the other side of the fire they’d built. He mused, “You know, when we were becalmed, I told Billy I believed your darkest thoughts somehow had the ability to manifest themselves upon our reality. That your anger over the murder of Miranda became the storm into which we all battled. That your despair over her death became the doldrums into which we all sank. In my defense, I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in a while. But the truth of it, I’m not sure it was far off. Your demons are a part of our reality. Such is the nature of the influence you wield. Some of those demons I’ve come to know, but the exact reasons you believe this war needs to be fought are still unknown to me. Before this war actually begins, I’m wondering where it actually began. Will you tell me?”

James sighed. He finished digging and pulled the cache into the hole, then began to fill the hole back in. When he was done, he sat down on a large rock opposite Silver, the fire between them. 

He had known this moment was coming for a long time. Now that it was here, he realized he didn’t know what to say. 

Perhaps it was best to start at the beginning. So he said, “I was born in 1022 in Ribe, Denmark-”

“Be serious.”

“I am being serious,” James said patiently.

Silver stared at him. “You mean to tell me you’re nearly 700 years old?”

James leaned forward and stuck his hand into the fire. Silver reached out a hand to stop him, but James held up his other hand and Silver paused. 

When James pulled his hand back out, wincing from the pain, he held the hand in the light so that Silver could see it heal. “You know I can heal. You’ve seen it before. It follows that I also wouldn’t age.” 

Silver’s eyes were darting between James’ face and his hand, now fully healed. “Yes, but... how?”

“If you’ll let me speak, I’ll tell you,” James said.

Silver hesisted. He looked like he was debating whether he really wanted to know. Finally, he nodded.

James started again. “I was born in 1022 in Ribe, Denmark. My mother and father both died from some illness or other shortly after I was born. I don’t remember them. I was raised by my grandfather, a fisherman. At the time, all households were required to contribute a person for military service, so when I was old enough, I went. I served on a warship for many years. In about 1048, the king of Norway - Harald Hardrada, as he was later known - decided he wanted to rule over Denmark, as well, so of course, he sent his army there to try to take the crown from Sweyn Estridsson. Ultimately, after many years, he was unsuccessful, though he did have a few victories along the way.

During one of the battles, I was taken prisoner and was forced to serve as a slave - a thrall. The man who was my master... was not unkind. A master is still a master, of course, but after a few years, he freed me from service. I had the choice to go back to Denmark, but I had no real reason to. My grandfather had died some years before, and I had no other family. So, I stayed. In 1064-”

“You were a Viking?” Silver asked, suddenly realizing. 

James just smiled and continued, “In 1064, Hardrada stopped his war with Denmark and set his sights on England, though it wasn’t until two years later when Edward the Confessor died without an heir that he set sail for the island. The first battle took place on the outskirts of a village called Fulford. Hardrada did win the battle, though I suppose you can guess that his conquest of England went on to be about as successful as his conquest of Denmark. 

In any case, during the battle, I got into a fight with an English soldier, who, long story short, stabbed me. A fatal wound. But I’d stabbed him, as well. We were both dead... and then we weren’t. Neither of us knew what to make of that, so we just got back up and kept fighting. We killed each other a few more times before we were finally able to admit it was pointless. 

The English soldier’s name was Thomas. Instead of staying with our respective armies, we went off to try to... figure out what we were. Not that we were able to come up with any answers on our own. We did start having these strange dreams... of two women traveling together. We didn’t have any answers to that, either. But we did have each other. We became lovers. 

It was just the two of us for a long while, until one day, those two women from our dreams showed up on our doorstep. One of those women was Miranda. The other was Feiyan. They told us that we were immortal. To a point, anyway. You’ll know that Miranda...” James’ voice broke and trailed off. 

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, they said that they traveled the world and tried to help those in need. They invited Thomas and I to join them, which we did. The dreams stopped after that. We didn’t need them. Together, we joined the Mongol conquests, the Albigensian Crusade, the Hundred Years' War... God, the stories I could tell you...

In the 1520’s, when Europeans began shipping kidnapped Africans to the Americas to use as slave labor, we got involved, trying to intercept as many ships as possible. It was the four of us for all that time, for all of it, until about 1687 when Feiyan heard about a war brewing in China, her home. She wanted all of us to go, she felt we’d spent enough time where we were, done enough good, but I convinced Thomas and Miranda that we should stay. So Feiyan went alone. I haven’t seen her since...

A few years after that, Thomas and I split off from Miranda. She went to the West Indies to assist a maroon community, whose island, ironically, I believe we are on right now. We continued capturing and liberating slave ships. A young Peter Ashe was one of our contacts, providing us with information on routes. It was all going well until we were tricked into attacking a ship that was not filled with prisoners, but with English soldiers who were prepared for a hard fight. We were captured ourselves and sent to be executed in London.

As you can imagine, that didn’t go quite how the English expected it to. They tried everything... beheading, crushing, boiling. When none of that worked, they got the church involved. A priest named Alfred Hamilton decided that we were demons and that the only way to vanquish us was to separate us. Thomas was put into an iron coffin, taken out to sea, and cast off somewhere. 

Miranda was able to rescue me from prison not long after that. We spent the next ten years trying to get some information on where Thomas might have been left. Eventually, when we had no luck, our focus shifted back to England. We went to Nassau, newly a pirate republic, hoping to properly liberate the island, hoping to prove a point to the rest of the West Indies that our European overlords were not needed. That we could run things on our own terms...”

James took a deep breath. “Demons, whether your own or someone else’s, are such a hard thing to define, which can make it an easy label to affix to things we don’t understand. Thomas had been born and raised in England, only to go back there centuries later to be punished for being something outside their worldview. And they don’t treat anyone they do understand much better. All of this has led me to believe... that England is broken, unrepairable... that it’s rule over the world needs to be resisted. And stopped.”

James went silent. He looked at the man across from him. 

Silver stared back at him. “I don’t know what to say.” 

“You don’t need to say anything,” James said. “You asked me where everything began, and I felt that you were entitled to an answer - to the truth.” 

James had never told anyone so much of his story before. Everyone he’d been truly close with - Thomas, Miranda, Feiyan - had already known it. Peter had only been given bits and pieces. He was not sure why he’d been compelled to share so much with Silver - he certainly could have gone with a shorter version. Perhaps after Miranda’s death, he was just trying to find a connection with someone again. 

“I appreciate that,” Silver said. “And I am genuinely sorry... but you can see how this might be of particular and immediate concern to me.” 

James tilted his head. “I can?”

“Well, before today I knew of two people who managed to know you - albeit on different levels - to gain your trust, to be your partner,” Silver said. “And they both ended up dead while playing the role. One of whom you claim was immortal.”

James’ eyes narrowed. “Now, wait a minute-”

Silver kept talking. “Now you’re telling me there’s a third member of this class - though he may arguably still be alive - making it even less credible to characterize Mr. Gates’ and Miranda’s deaths as bad luck. It would seem that those closest to you meet their end not just during the relationship, but because of it. And as I sit here, I’m acutely aware there may be no one closer to you in the world right now than I.” 

“What exactly are you saying?” James asked. “That I’ve somehow sought out my own tragedies?” 

“Did you not tell me that our darkest motives will conceal themselves from us? Cloak themselves in whatever they must in order to move us to action? And even if that’s not true, a pattern is a pattern, and only a fool ignores one because he does not care for the implications.” 

James raised an eyebrow. “So you see yourself as a potential fourth member of this class, concerned that your association with me will lead to your end.” 

“My association with you began out of necessity, but I’ve come to find a great deal of respect for you,” Silver said. “Perhaps even friendship...” 

You probably shouldn’t tell your friends they’ve caused their own trauma, James thought. “Hmm.”

“Which is why I find myself unnerved by the thought that when this pattern applies itself to you and I... that I will, in some way, be the end of you.” 

James chuckled. “Is that so?”

“The three who preceded me all had one thing in common. They were vulnerable to you, to some extent,” Silver said. “Had more or the same amount to lose, less or the same means with which to protect themselves. Until recently, I thought that was me as well, but now... I don’t know that it is anymore.” 

“It is natural for men new to power to assume that it has no limits,” James said. “Trust me. It does.”

“We agreed that I would select a man to be responsible for making a direct move against Captain Hornigold once the battle begins. I chose Mr. Dobbs.” 

James frowned. The man who’d attacked the maroon? Who Silver had punished with a beating? “You chose Dobbs? Why the fuck would you do that?”

Silver looked amused. “It’s a dangerous errand-”

“It’s more than dangerous. The entirety of our plan rests on its success. Why would you assign it to a man harboring who knows what sort of resentment against you?”

“Because it isn’t resentment,” Silver said. “If you had disciplined him, he would resent you for it, but towards me, I don’t believe he feels resentment. I believe he feels shame for having disappointed me, and a great need to redeem himself in my eyes.” 

“Send someone else,” James demanded.

Silver shrugged. “It’s done. He knows. Were I to replace him now, it might provoke the response you wish to avoid.” 

“If you’re wrong,” James said, “if Mr. Dobbs takes this opportunity to betray you, to betray us, this battle will be over before it ever began.” 

Silver smiled. “I once thought that to lead men in this world, to be liked was just as good as feared, and that may very well be true. But to be both liked and feared all at once is an entirely different state of being in which, I believe, at this moment, I exist alone. The men need to know they’re in good favor with me. They need it, and there is nothing they won’t do to make sure they have it. Mr. Dobbs will do what I ask of him. He will lead Captain Hornigold exactly where I ask him to, of this I’m sure. But from there, it’s up to you.” 

James considered this. “Let us say there is some merit to your argument. Let us say that Mr. Dobbs will do as you ask of him. I would have to admit in that case that the world has shifted beneath our feet in a most startling way. But in terms of our future and the danger that you believe you may pose to me, bear this in mind. Yes, there are fates worse than death. But I have endured starvation, a tempest, pirate hunters, jealous captains, mutinous crews, angry lords, a queen, a king, and the goddamn English. So to whatever extent you may be concerned that someday we will clash, worried that though today we be friends, some day you will have no choice but to find a way to end me... I won’t worry too much.”

\---

Mr. Dobbs - at the cost of his own life - had done as Silver had instructed him to do and the battle on Maroon Island had been won. Now, the surviving pirates and maroons turned their eyes toward Nassau. 

A few weeks after that battle and a few weeks before they planned to set sail, Flint asked Silver to meet him on a cliff. When Silver got there, he found Flint standing on the edge of the cliff, staring out at the sea. He’d dug two swords into the sand and placed a crutch on a nearby rock. 

Silver frowned. He turned to Flint’s back. “What are we looking at?”

“Nassau,” Flint said. “Thereabouts. A few days over the horizon, just waiting for us. Can’t you see it?” 

Slightly out of breath, Silver stepped up to stand behind Flint. “After I just climbed that fucking hill, are you being serious right now?” 

Flint laughed. “In a few weeks time, I will lead a pirate fleet of unprecedented strength over that horizon into a battle of unprecedented importance. With a little luck, that battle will end with us taking Nassau and beginning a revolution. I cannot do it without you.” Flint turned and looked at Silver, “So it would benefit all involved, you not the least, if, when the battle begins, you aren’t killed by the first fool lucky enough to swing a sword your way.” 

“You wanna teach me to fight?” Silver asked.

“I know you know how to fight,” Flint said, walking back toward where he’d left the swords. “I want to teach you how to fight and not die.” 

“I’m not sure how wise it is to take lessons on how not to die from someone who literally cannot die,” Silver commented. 

“I can die, I just don’t stay dead for very long,” Flint corrected. “And I generally do try and avoid that, so as to not deal with the drama that usually goes along with it. Given that, I may, in fact, be the perfect person to teach you.” 

Silver had known that Flint wasn’t human - at least not in the normal sense - for most of the time that they’d known each other. They had not talked about it much until recently. It was a strange thing to discuss casually, and were it anyone else, Silver doubted he would have been able to. There was something about Flint - the man himself, not his abilities - that always seemed to make him behave strangely. 

He walked toward Flint and reached for one of the swords. Flint stopped him. “You’ll have more control with that,” he said, and gestured toward the crutch. “I know how you feel about being seen without the leg, but when the fighting truly begins, all the matters is what makes for the greatest...”

While Flint had been talking, Silver had sat down and begun taking off his peg leg. Flint looks surprised. 

“...advantage.”

“I have to manage how the men see me. I understand that’s part of my job. But for pride to be an issue between you and I... well, I think we’re playing past that by now. Don’t you?” Silver said. He tossed the peg leg to the side, picked up the crutch, and stood up with it under his arm.

Flint picked up the swords and handed one to Silver. 

“Do you really imagine a few weeks of this is going to make much of a difference?” Silver asked. “Am I not what I am at this point?” 

“It’s better than nothing,” Flint said.

Silver looked down at the sword in his hand. “You’re not concerned about this?”

“Concerned?”

“Well, you say you’ll be teaching me to fight. But if every man fights differently, seems to me what you’ll really be teaching me is how to defeat you,” Silver said, thoughtful. 

Flint rolled his eyes. “I’ll take my chances.” 

They began to practice. 

\---

**1716**

**New Providence Island**

They were onboard the Walrus on their way to Nassau, to retake the island. The rest of the pirate fleet was with them. 

On the deck, a bell began to ring. “Two flags on the starboard bow!” the lookout shouted, indicating they were reaching the harbor. 

James and Silver, who had been waiting in the captain’s cabin, stepped outside. De Groot approached them. “There’s no sign of the alarm being raised. Is it possible they trust our false colors?” 

“Well, anything’s possible, but I wouldn’t count on it,” James said. “Maintain our current approach, present heading. Prepare to take courses.”

“Aye, Captain,” De Groot said. He began ordering men about. 

As they drew nearer to the harbor, James looked through a spyglass toward the shore. 

Silver came up beside him. “What is it?” 

“The governor’s sloops aren’t moving,” James said. 

“Well, what would you have them doing?” Silver asked. 

James lowered the spyglass. “Outgunned as they are, maybe nothing. Maybe something.” 

“What the hell does that mean?”

“The Revenge is almost in range of the fort,” De Groot announced of Teach’s ship. 

James lifted the spyglass again and looked toward the fort. “No guns,” he observed. 

“That’s how Billy said it would be,” Silver said. 

Billy had proven to be a useful contact on the island, but that didn’t mean James entirely trusted him.

“Standby the anchor,” James shouted to the crew. “And signal the Eagle to offer her larboard batteries to hold those sloops at bay.” 

“What the fuck is the Defiant doing?” James heard Silver ask. “Why is she cutting across our bow?”

James turned to look. The Defiant was, indeed, cutting across their bow. “The Defiant’s altering course,” the lookout shouted too late. 

“Helm! Hard to starboard!” James ordered.

“Hard over!” De Groot yelled. 

“Trim in all the sails! Brace up sharp!” 

The ship was a flurry of activity, various people shouting continued orders, which James did not hear. He had turned his attention back to the Defiant. He watched as it moved along its new course. His stomach sank when he heard a low creaking, cracking sound coming from beneath the water and saw the Defiant tip to one side.

It was only a few moments later when James heard the same sound again, though this time louder, as it was right beneath his own ship. It, too, tipped. 

Woodes Rogers had hidden a blockade under the water, likely sunken ships. 

“Can we get free?” Silver asked. 

James looked up at the fort. Now, there were guns. “Take cover!” 

The ship began to take cannonfire. 

James crawled over to protect Silver. 

“I’m giving the order!” Silver shouted at him. “We need to get off this ship.”

“Not yet,” James said.

“If we don’t get these men off the ship, they’re dead,” Silver argued.

“We won’t be able to make it to shore if they keep firing. We need to find a way to harass those guns.”

“Harass them with what?” Silver asked. “The starboard guns can’t elevate enough to get anywhere near that fort.” 

“All hands!” James shouted. “Reset the topsails and t’gallants! Now!”

The disordered screaming became more ordered as the crew scrambled to follow James’ order. Somehow, they managed it and the ship began to right itself somewhat. Enough to fire the guns.

“Gun crews! On my mark!”

“Fire!”

The ship’s guns began to pelt the fort. 

That should be enough, James thought after a few rounds. “Abandon ship! All hands! Abandon ship! Get the ladders over!”

Everyone began to scramble overboard. It was chaos. With the fort continuing to fire on them, some of the crew simply chose to jump into the water, while others took a slower descent down to the longboats. Neither one seemed to be providing any better luck. Crewmen were being hit by the cannonfire and debris left and right.

James was one of the last to come down, with Silver right above him. As James dropped down into one of the longboats, he saw the top of the rope Silver was climbing on get hit by cannonfire and come loose from the ship. Silver fell into the water, sinking below the surface. 

In the next longboat, Madi screamed. She tried to go into the water after him, but her men held her back. 

James stared at the spot where Silver had disappeared, hoping he would resurface. He did not.

No, James thought. Not you, too. 

He took off his jacket and dove into the water. It was dark beneath the surface, with even darker spots filled by bodies, and blood, and debris. James swam toward the spot where Silver had landed, but did not see him. He swam deeper. Still nothing. 

After a while, he started to run out of air. If he stayed down too long, if he allowed himself to drown, if someone saw him... he had to go back. There would not be time to go down again. 

Reluctantly, he swam back to the longboat, where the crew pulled him onboard. He looked over and saw Madi crying. 

In James’ absence, De Groot had begun giving orders. “Return fire,” he shouted as they rowed toward shore.

Later, James and Madi stood on the beach and watched each longboat unload, hoping Silver would be on one of them. As the last longboat made its way toward them, they held their breath. According to the men who had just landed, an injured man, almost drowned, had been pulled onboard. 

“Here I must be careful,” James said to Madi. “I have well over 200 men unaccounted for. Those who remain, it will be very hard to explain to them why I dove into the water to go after one, and why, with all I have to attend to, I choose to stand here now hanging onto the fate of the same one. I know that you and he had been working closely together of late, become friends even. I don’t know why I’m trying to say. Perhaps just that he is my friend, too.” 

Madi didn’t respond. James knew she did not like him, did not trust him. She had only tolerated him because of Silver. He wondered what would happen now that Silver was no longer there. 

They watched in silence as the last longboat was pulled onto the beach. The injured man who was lifted out of it was not Silver. 

Farther up the beach, someone whistled. James, finally, turned away from the sea to look. Billy and the resistance had arrived.

James marched toward them, feeling anger bubbling up. “They obstructed the harbor!”

“I know,” Billy said.

“It must have taken them days to arrange!”

“I know,” Billy said again. “I-”

“Then why the fuck didn’t you warn us?” James roared. He felt hands on him, holding him back from attacking the other man. 

“I did warn you!” Billy shouted back. “There were three ships. He bought them cheap out of Abaco. He scuttled them six days ago. The moment I learned of it, I sent word to Mr. Featherstone. He was supposed to send word to you not to enter the harbor.” 

“Then Mr. Featherstone has fucked us all,” James said, trying to sound calmer, though he did not feel it. 

“Yes, I know that, too,” Billy said. He looked around at the other survivors on the beach. “Is this all that’s left?”

“Teach and the Revenge are unaccounted for,” James answered. “I saw them sailing north away from the harbor under pursuit. The rest are presumed dead or captured.”

“And Silver?” Billy asked. Long John Silver, he meant. “Which is he?”

James didn’t answer, which was answer enough. 

Billy processed this. “There’ll be debts to repay after today. And there’ll be plenty of time to do it. But right now, we need to get off the sand.” 

He and the resistance turned and began walking inland. Survivors from the beach followed. 

As they made their way to Miranda’s former home, where the resistance had made their camp, Billy caught James up on everything that had been happening. He said that after his force had been defeated on Maroon Island, the Naval commander had notified Governor Rogers he was quitting Nassau and taken his fleet back to London. But one subordinate - a Captain Berringer - had led a mutiny of a few hundred men determined to stay and avenge the defeat. They swore a loyalty oath to Rogers personally and then began a purge in Nassau of anyone even suspected of having a connection to the resistance.

“What kind of purge?” James asked as they walked through the stone pillars that brought them to Miranda’s estate.

“Hangings, torture,” Billy replied. “Eventually the street was more afraid of him than of us and the black spots had ceased having any effect. So we challenged him directly, tried to force our way into town, but his men are fanatical and the fighting was bloody. At its worst, Berringer tried to reach out from town into our camp, turned two of our men against us, help finish us off for good. Fortunately we were able to discover the plot in time. The lines are settled now. He controls the town but little else. My people have free reign over most of the rest of the island.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Your people?”

Billy ignored that. “The scouts are returning,” he said as men on horses approached. “I’ll meet you inside.”

Reluctantly, James walked into the home that had once been so familiar to him. Resistance men were moving around it, going about various duties. The place was almost unrecognizable. Everything James remembered about it had been rearranged or removed entirely. In the kitchen, he found a broken teacup on the floor, part of a set James had bought for Miranda, a gift. He did not see the rest of the set. 

“Is it over?” a voice asked behind him. Madi.

“Is what over?”

“You looked into my mother’s eyes and you said a great war lay ahead of us,” Madi said, “one in which pirates and slaves would stand together and strike a blow that might shake the very foundation of the British Empire. Now our ships are gone, our army is fractured, battered, and beaten. And the only man among you I trusted is dead. I’m asking you if this war died with him.”

Not if I can help it, James thought. Though he doubted saying that to her would provide her any reassurance. He sat down on an unoccupied stool and tried to think of something, anything to say to her that would. 

Before he could, Billy walked in. “Give us the room,” he said to the men.

Everyone, save for James and Madi, immediately stopped what they were doing and went outside. 

“I don’t have exact numbers, but it sounds as though there’s already been a significant number of prisoners captured from the harbor. I assume they’ll push to start the hangings right away, which doesn’t leave us much time,” Billy said. “Even with your men here, we don’t have sufficient numbers to move on Nassau directly and be assured victory. But if we could dramatically increase those numbers-”

“Increase them how?” Madi asked.

“The Underhill plantation,” Billy said. “It’s the largest and richest of the interior estates, and it’s home to well over 200 slaves. It’s well-defended. Until now, I haven’t had the manpower to take it. But now, with the men we have here, I think it’s possible, and if we could convince even half those slaves to join our fight, we might then actually be in a position to take back-”

“Too long,” James interrupted. “What you’re suggesting, we don’t have time for that.”

“It’ll take a few days-”

James stood up. “The governor may be on his heels, but he won’t stay that way for long. It will be days, hours maybe, before he finds a way to set his feet beneath him and retrench. We need to strike quickly, directly at Nassau, with as many forces as we can muster today.” 

“Hang on-”

“We are two battered fighters at the end of a long fight,” James pressed on. “The next blow struck must be a decisive one, and we have to be the one that strikes-” 

“Stop,” Billy said forcefully. “I prepared these men to follow Long John Silver upon his return. Now, if you assume that in his absence, that role now reverts to you, then you assume wrong. See, my men know your name, but you weren’t the one who recruited them into this. You weren’t the one who led them in those midnight raids in the western plantations. You weren’t the one who has lived with them and drank with them and bled with them. So in the absence of Long John Silver, the men will look to me, not you, for answers to what happens next, and I will be the one to give them those answers, not you.” 

James gave Billy a hard stare. “I have become so easily set aside, have I?” 

Billy matched the look. “Do you have value to me? Yes. Would your skills in a fight aid us in our efforts? Of course. But do we need you here? No. We do not.” 

James sneered at him. “You’re forgetting one thing. Somewhere on an island a few days’ journey from here is a chest filled with treasure buried in a secret place, and of the three men who know of that place, I may be the last one alive after today.” 

“Are you threatening to withhold the location of the chest that every man here is counting upon to provide for Nassau’s treasury once we secure it solely so you can maintain your own status here?” Billy asked.

“There is an unthinkable victory within our reach, and I will see this through by whatever means I have at my disposal,” James said. “This seems like the act of a small man to you. Were he here, I’m sure Mr. Silver would make this all sound more agreeable to you. But without him, think what you like. My word will govern.” 

“I know, too,” Madi suddenly said.

James and Billy turned to look at her. She looked between them. “Three men know the resting place of the chest and one woman. Silver told it to me before we left home. It would be preferable if there were one voice to govern here tomorrow, but I don’t think it’s going to be quite so simple. There will be no pirate king here. Of that much, I am certain.” 

Fuck. 

\---

Silver woke up with his hands tied above his head. He struggled for a moment to break free, but when he realized it was of no use, he instead turned to studying his surroundings. He was in some sort of run down shack, possibly in the Wrecks. Nearby, an English soldier was also tied up. 

A noise to his left made him turn. A man, not tied up, was sitting with his back to them. 

“What is this?” Silver asked. “What’s going on here? What do you want from me?”

The man stood up and turned toward them. He had long, red hair, a bushy beard, and scarring on the right side of his face.

Flint had told him once about a man who’d fit that description, an old associate of Teach’s. Israel Hands.  
Hands came and sat a quill and parchment down in front of Silver, then crouched down beside him. He held up two daggers. “Blacksmith pays for these,” he said. Then he held up a handful of necklaces. “Jeweler pays for these.” Next, he pointed at Silver. “The law pays for you. 500 pieces for Long John Silver.”

“I’m sorry, I think you’re mistaken. I’m not-”

Hands hit Silver across the face. “I seen you. Before. Before you was Long. Now they say you’re supposed to be a pirate king. A strongman. That true?”

Silver didn’t answer. Hands seemed to take that as a ‘no’. “Hmm,” he said. “That’s what I thought.” 

Hands untied one of Silver’s hands. “So, you returned. You’re angry. And you just killed one of the governor’s men. Now write that,” he said, gesturing to the quill and parchment. 

“I killed who?” Silver asked. 

Hands nodded at the English soldier. “Killed him.” 

“What?”

“500 pieces they pay before you did it,” the man said. “I think more after.”

“Fuck you.”

Hands got up and walked over to the English soldier, holding one of the daggers. He slit the soldier’s throat, then came back to Silver. He picked up the quill and put it in Silver’s free hand. “Write.” 

Silver reluctantly wrote the letter, then the man re-tied his hand, and left, presumably to deliver it to Nassau. 

When he returned, he brought a fish with him from the market. He prepared to cook it, sitting, again, with his back to Silver. 

Silver decided to strike up a conversation. “If you are who I think you are, I must confess, I don’t understand what you’re still doing here. Nassau’s first king, after you helped him drive out the English the first time and claim his title, embarrassed you thoroughly and publicly, nearly shooting you in the eye over a simple disagreement. I sincerely hope you aren’t still here because you’re still holding out for some sort of apology from Teach.” 

Hands instantly got up, walked over, and kicked Silver in the ribs. Twice. “Fuck Teach.”

“Yeah, fuck Teach,” Silver agreed. 

Hands looked surprised. “Huh?”

“We are brothers that sail beneath the black,” Silver said. “How can a man like that be the best of us? Well, they followed Teach, and where did it lead? An English governor raising his flag over Nassau again. Fuck Teach. He was almost the end of us. But now I’m here and things are about to begin again.” 

“You?” Hands asked. “Who are you that I ought to pay you any mind?” 

For once, Silver didn’t have to lie. “I’m no one. From nowhere. Belonging to nothing. I’m a wretch like you. And yet mountains of gold have changed hands because I chose it. Thousands of men in Nassau are living in fear of my return because I decreed it. Hundreds of dead redcoats in a forest not far from here because I made it so. I’m the reason grown men lie awake at night. I am the new beginning for Nassau. And you’d trade all that for what? 500 pieces?”

“You think you’re worth more?”

“To the right people,” Silver said. 

“Who? Who would pay so much for you?” 

Madi would. Flint would. But Silver didn’t know what had happened to them. It had to be someone inside Nassau. The only person he could think of was Max.

Silver asked Hands if he could write another letter. 

Later, after dark, Hands took Silver to meet Max outside town. When she arrived, Silver stepped forward, alone, to meet her.

They had not seen each other since Silver had left for Charles Town, before he had lost his leg. Silver felt like he had become a different man since then. In some ways, at least. He wondered what Max thought of the man who she’d one tricked into giving her a share of the Urca gold now being the most feared pirate on the island. As she approached, her expression did not give much indication. 

But her tone did. “Long John Silver,” she said with distaste. “So big a name for so small a man. What is it you have to say to me?”

“You owe me,” Silver said, annoyed. “Certainly your fortune. Probably your life. You might wanna consider that and then choose a new tone, especially given that in the very near future your life might end up in my hands yet again.” 

“Is that so?” Max asked. Her tone hadn’t changed. 

Silver didn’t have the patience for this. “Is Teach still free? Is Rackham? Is Flint? This war may feel over, but as long as we’re all free, it’s far from it. And if somehow, we prevail in Nassau, what happens to former friends who’ve since aligned themselves so warmly with Governor Rogers? I’ve come to offer you a chance to earn back our friendship. Or, more specifically, to buy it back. An amount of money that proves your desire to come-”

“No.” 

“No?”

“I am tired of this,” Max said. “This thing that perpetuates itself with anger and bluster and blood. I do not want to be your friend. What I want is for all of this to end. For it to end, you must end.” 

She raised a hand and the men she’d brought with her stepped forward. “I imagine I have some obligation to surrender you to Captain Berringer, but the spectacle he would make of your trial and execution would only fan the flames of what is burning in Nassau now. I am tempted to put the sword to you and your man both, and bury this story for good, but what am I if I spend my days pleading for a return to civility and then do dark things under the cover of night? So, you will remain in my custody until I can find a place far from here to deposit you. You will be gone, but you will live. And for that, I will consider whatever debts I may owe you to be paid in full.”

As her men approached Hands, he attacked. He killed five of them as the sixth hurried back to Max, directing her back to their horse and cart. They sped away. 

Fuck.

\---

James’, Billy’s and Madi’s men were able to gain control of the Underhill plantation. Unfortunately, after realizing the slaves had locked themselves in their quarters and speaking with the Underhill’s house slave, Ruth, they discovered that, to protect their assets, the seven plantations on the island split families up to deter them from joining any unrest. All seven would need to revolt at once to avoid the deaths of loved ones. 

Billy believed they could do it, but James and Madi disagreed. They needed to attack Nassau first, to prove to the slaves across the island that their enterprise was valid, that they would be protected if they joined the cause. 

This caused a rift in the resistance - those loyal to Billy against those loyal to James and Madi. Instead of fighting their true enemy, they fought each other. When the militia from neighboring plantations arrived, James and Madi’s men fled, leaving Billy and his men to fend for themselves.

James and Madi’s faction set up operations in an abandoned house on the other side of the island. The next day, they gathered to discuss what their next steps should be. After some disagreements, the group eventually decided that the first thing they would need to do was gather intelligence. Madi suggested that she go into Nassau and speak with her father’s contact there, Eme, to see if she would be willing to become a spy, and possibly eventually an inside agitator, for them. When she walked outside, getting ready to leave, James followed her. 

“You know where you’re going?” James asked. 

“I saw her last employed in the tavern,” Madi said. “I’ll begin there.”

“We don’t need to persuade her to do anything yet,” James said. “Eventually, we’ll need to garner support to help incite Nassau to revolt against the governor, but what we need right now is information. How many soldiers there are, what kind of sympathy exists for our cause.”

Madi nodded. “I know.” After a pause, she said, “Thank you.”

“What for?” James asked. When he looked at her, he realized that for the first time, he did not see mistrust in her eyes. 

“Last night,” Madi said. “You did not have to side with me. It was costly for you to do so.”

“It would have cost far more for me not to have done so,” James said. “We might be able to take Nassau alone, but there will be no greater victory, no widespread revolution, unless we can somehow keep our alliance together.” 

“You truly believe it is possible?” Madi asked. “That as disadvantaged and disabled as we are, that anything we do here is going to make the least bit of difference to the men in London?”

James smiled. “That’s the trick, isn’t it? If no one remembers a time before there was an England, then no one can imagine a time after it. The empire survives in part because we believe its survival to be inevitable. But it isn’t. And they know that. That’s why they’re so terrified of you and I. If we are able to take Nassau, if we are able to expose the illusion that England is not inevitable, if we are able to incite a revolt that spreads across the New World, then I imagine a few men in London might notice.”

When James had been born, England had existed for less than 100 years. Though even he did not remember a time before it, he had seen other long-standing empires fall. 

“Too much sanity may be madness, and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be,” Madi quoted before turning and heading toward Nassau with her bodyguards. 

James was impressed. Don Quixote. He wished he could tell her he’d met the author. 

Madi returned from Nassau a few hours later with Eme, who brought with her some useful information, the most important of which: John Silver was alive. He’d been spotted in the Wrecks and Captain Berringer had sent a force there to capture him.

James and a group of men left immediately, hoping to get to Silver before the English soldiers did. 

They found Silver on the edge of the Wrecks with another man James believed to be Israel Hands, Edward Teach’s once-friend. Three soldiers had firearms trained on them. James, Dooley, and Joji snuck up behind them and slit their throats. 

James walked toward Silver, not able to help the grin that slipped onto his face. 

As they made their way back to their base, they filled each other in on everything that had happened since they’d last seen each other. 

“I don’t understand,” Silver said of Billy betraying them. “Billy?”

“Yep,” James said. 

“Tried to kill you?”

“Yep.”

“And Madi?”

“Her, too.”

“Why are we not angry about this?” Silver asked.

“Who says we’re not?” 

“Well, I’m not sensing a whole lot of urgency to do anything about it,” Silver said. 

“There isn’t anything we can do about it at the moment,” James said. 

“Isn’t there?”

James sighed. “Look, Billy’s not stupid. He’s almost certainly consolidated by now, intimidated or eliminated anyone who would challenge him or support me or Madi. He has control of the Underhill estate, control of the army that calls it home. There will be a time to deal with him, but not now.” He gestured behind them, to where Israel Hands was keeping a wary distance. “This one, however...” 

Silver didn’t seem worried. “He’s fine. If you’d asked me yesterday, when he was considering selling me to the governor for a profit, I’d be in agreement we should be rid of him. But now, I don’t know. I feel like we need as much help as we can...”

His voice trailed off as they reached the abandoned house. Madi was standing outside with part of the resistance, her back to James and Silver.

“...get.”

Several members of the group looked up to acknowledge them. Madi turned. 

Silver and Madi rushed toward each other, embracing and pressing their lips together. 

James had suspected they’d become lovers, but he hadn’t known for sure. He was happy for Silver, that he had someone. But a part of him, to his surprise, was also a little sad. 

He walked into the house to wait for the next meeting to begin.

“Execution of the pirate prisoners is scheduled for today,” Eme said once it had. “Captain Berringer stood in the square and said if Long John Silver had a problem with this, he was welcome to show himself and voice it.” 

Dooley looked skeptical. “Even if we could get through their outer defenses, 10 of us walk into town against what could be 100 soldiers. Then what?” 

“The threats have been made,” James said. “The story’s been told. Everyone in Nassau knows what Long John Silver’s return means, what’s expected of them when he does return. All that remains to do is for him to return.” 

James looked at Silver, who seemed to agree. 

Silver looked at Eme. “It would help if Nassau knew I was coming. Can you see to it?”

“Of course,” Eme said. 

After giving Eme a head start, they made their way to Nassau. They went on foot, save for Silver, who rode a horse, both due to his disability and his importance.

As they approached the square, the streets were empty. “They’ll come,” James heard Silver say to a nervous Dooley. 

When they reached the square, they were met by Captain Berringer and his soldiers. Three pirates hung from nooses behind them. 

“Company, fall into two ranks!” one of the soldiers yelled. The soldiers moved into position. 

Silver got down from his horse and shooed it away. 

“Make ready!” Berringer shouted. The soldiers lifted her muskets. “Present!” The soldiers aimed their muskets. 

Someone whistled. 

The people of Nassau began to appear, filling the square and standing in open windows and on roofs with muskets. They quickly outnumbered the British soldiers. 

“Ready!” James yelled once it seemed like everyone had taken their places. 

“Fire!” Berringer and James shouted at the same time. 

Both sides fired, then plowed forward, reaching for their swords. 

When it seemed like the resistance had the upper hand, James heard Berringer order, “I need B Company! Fall back!”

The B Company appeared almost instantly on the roofs opposite the resistance. “B Company, make ready!” Berringer yelled up to them. “Wait for my command.”

“Mark the target!” one of the soldiers yelled. The resistance shot at them before they could get the chance. 

The resistance was winning. And to add insult to injury, Billy and his men showed up.

James looked toward the gallows. Hands stood atop it with Berringer on his knees. Hands had a knife at the other man’s throat. He was looking to Silver, as if asking for permission. Silver gave it, and Berringer’s blood spilled onto the wood platform beneath him. 

The British soldiers surrendered.

The battle was one.

Nassau was theirs. 

\---

The first thing Flint did after Nassau had fallen from British hands was call together a group of prominent pirate captains on the island - a Captain’s Council, he called it. He met with them in the town hall.

“Nassau works best when it’s men know what crews they belong to and what captains they answer to,” Silver heard Flint say to them. “Without structure, disorder is only to be expected. Now, you will begin with men that you know and trust. And from there, you will begin to reorganize your crews as quickly as possible.”

“Crews? With no ships?” Tom Morgan asked. 

“Well, we’ve all hunted small - piraguas or less,” Flint said. He did not sound concerned. “It’ll have to start there until things are settled. But it is the only way there will be any semblance of order in the meantime.” 

“There aren’t gonna be many men out there eager to take orders anytime soon,” Morgan said. As he spoke, gunfire could still be heard sounding through the streets.

From a few feet away and with his back turned, Silver could still almost feel Flint’s impatience. “You were all chosen because I thought you were worthy to be the first Captain’s Council of a restored Nassau. Do I need to reconsider?”

Silver felt eyes on his back. He turned. Several of the captains, including Morgan, were staring at him, as if they were hoping he’d give them different orders. “You heard him,” he said testily. 

Looking displeased, the captains left. 

Flint came to stand beside Silver. 

“What did he think?” Silver wondered aloud. “He was going to get a different answer from me?” 

“Well, if in doubt, ask someone else, I suppose,” Flint said. “The more they realize there is no daylight between you and I, the more they will learn to accept our shared authority.”

“Is it safe, then, to admit that I’m not sure Morgan’s wrong?” Silver asked. “It’s bad out there. Worse than I anticipated.”  
Flint still didn’t look concerned. “All life begins in violence and wailing. It will pass.”

“A lot of things begin with violence and wailing,” Silver said. “A lot of them end up that way, too. Though I admire your optimism.”

Before Flint could respond, someone called for him. Both he and Silver turned. Dooley had entered the hall. 

“What news from the beach?” Flint asked him as he approached. 

“The governor’s close council and several dozen soldiers have managed to secure themselves inside the fort,” Dooley said.

Flint didn’t look surprised. “Eleanor Guthrie, is she among them?”

Silver knew Flint hated that Eleanor, who he’d once been close with, was now on the other side of this, married to the governor himself. 

Dooley handed Flint a piece of parchment. “She is. And she sent a note.” 

“She sent it?” Silver asked. Why would the note be from her and not one of the council members? Silver had to laugh. “She’s taken charge of them all already?”

Flint read the note. “It’s an offer of an exchange. Twenty of our men captured during the invasion and then held in the fort for Max.” 

“Twenty men following orders would make a big difference out there,” Dooley commented. 

“I agree. Unfortunately, I don’t think we have Max,” Flint said to him. “Do we have Max?” he asked the room. “Does anyone know where she is?”

No one knew anything. 

“Alright. Grab some men. Set about finding her,” Flint told Dooley. “She couldn’t have gotten very far.” 

“And Billy?” Silver asked as Dooley walked away. “Where is Billy?”

Dooley turned back to him. “I couldn’t say. I saw some of his men by the beach, but I assumed we were keeping our distance from them.” 

Why the fuck would we do that? “Keeping our distance? He’s stolen the army that pledged its allegiance to us, not to mention the damage he’s caused with our alliance to the slave communities on this island. There are a thousand men out there who’ve been awaiting my arrival. They’re now armed and angry and I haven’t yet said a word to them. If the first five are, ‘Billy Bones has crossed you’, would you care to guess what happens next? Go out there and put forth the word. If Billy isn’t in this room within the hour, I promise him he will regret it.” 

Dooley didn’t look impressed by Silver’s speech. He glanced at Flint.

“You heard him,” Flint said. 

Only then did Dooley turn again to leave. 

Satisfied, Silver went to stand beside Madi, who had been standing nearby, observing silently. Flint joined him.

“I think we’re all properly angry about what he did on the Underhill estate,” Flint said to them. 

“What he did?” Silver snapped. That didn’t even begin to cover it. 

Flint didn’t flinch. “Yes. But... a very wise woman recently told me that one should not allow their personal feelings to cloud the reality of the situation, which in both that case and this is that Billy has influence that is best not ignored.” 

Flint and Madi exchanged a looked. They both smiled.

Silver wasn’t sure what to make of this. Before the blockade, before they had both believed him dead, Madi had disliked Flint. Suddenly, they seemed to be friends. What had happened? Was it simply that Flint had taken Madi’s side against Billy? Or was there more to it?

He would have to find out another time. 

“That sounds like good advice,” Silver said sarcastically. “Was it given before or after he tried to kill the two of you?”

Silver suddenly lost interest in the answer, as over Flint’s shoulder, he saw Dooley already re-entering the hall. “Here he comes,” he said.

A few seconds later, Billy appeared in the doorway, a handful of his men at his back. He looked around the room, accessing the situation, before he said, “The Boyd brothers launched a raid on one of the governor’s munitions stores. We just managed to put it down. I think we can all agree it helps none of us to have those idiots armed to the teeth.” 

“Yeah,” Flint said. The Boyd brothers were, indeed, idiots. 

When no one else said anything, Billy continued, “Lest you think I’ve been avoiding you, we’ve had our hands full out there, trying to manage the transition.” 

Flint stepped toward him. “That’s good. Though I think we ought to discuss what it’s a transition to.” 

“Certainly,” Billy said politely. “Where would you like to begin?”

“What happened on that estate?” Madi asked. “Was the aftermath not what we feared?” 

Billy didn’t answer. He shifted uncomfortably. That was an answer in itself. 

“As it will be difficult to fully defend Nassau without the assistance of the slave communities on this island, as our relationship with those communities is likely severely damaged as a result of this, it will be critical that Madi proceed to the estate at once and attempt to repair that relationship to whatever extent is possible,” Flint said. “Can we trust that you will guarantee she will be received there safely?” 

“Of course we can,” Silver answered. “Of course Billy would never violate the trust I place in him as a brother, as a friend, to allow harm to come to those closest to me. For if Billy were to do something as disloyal as that, he knows I’d stop at nothing to see that offense repaid against him.” 

“I will see to it,” Billy said calmly. 

“I should fucking hope so.”

Billy rolled his eyes. He had had enough of being cordial. “Is everyone feeling better now they’ve got that off their chests? I ask as I’m wondering when would be a good time for us to talk about Max.”

“What about her?” Flint asked.

Billy seemed pleased that he was back on top of the conversation. “You don’t think there's anything going on in Nassau right now that I don’t know about, do you? I’m aware of the prisoner exchange offered by the holdouts in the fort.”

“Meaning what?” Silver asked. “You’re going to help us find her?”

“Find her? I have her,” Billy said. 

Billy led Silver and Flint to a cellar on the edge of town, where Max was tied up. “We found her with a small escort, trying to move her up to the fort, I assume. If you want her, I think there are some things we ought to discuss first about our transition.” Billy looked at Silver. “And I think it would be for the best if it was just you and I.” 

Silver looked to Flint. He didn’t seem bothered by this. He probably didn’t want to talk to Billy, anyway.

When they got back to the town hall, Silver and Billy went alone to one of the offices to talk. 

“We are taking Max,” Silver said. “To whatever extent you think you have leverage enough to extort something from me over it, I’d reconsider.” 

“Five minutes.”

“Five minutes?”

“You listen to what I have to say for five minutes and she’s yours,” Billy said. “Do we have a deal?”

“Clock’s ticking.”

Billy immediately launched into an argument, stating that they shouldn’t give up Max because it was her - not Featherstone - who had kept them from getting the message about the bay being blocked. Not to mention how cozy she’d gotten with the governor over the last months. Keeping - and punishing - Max, Billy believed, would help to soothe some of the anger in the streets. Twenty men wasn’t worth it. 

“Those twenty men are your brothers,” Silver reminded him. 

Billy didn’t look like he cared. But he said, “Those men’s lives mean as much to me as they do to you. And I assure you they mean a hell of a lot more to me than they do to Flint. You know as well as I do the only reason he wants them free is because the only soldiers in town are mine and the prisoners in the fort are likely to still follow his-”

Here we go, Silver thought. “I’m going to stop you right there. From the moment you began concocting this story about Long John Silver, I knew it was with an eye towards pushing him out. Separating the two of us so you can-”

“The two of you?” Billy asked. “How long ago was it that the two of us agreed that Flint threatened to be the end of us all? That he would find ways of driving us over and over again into that storm until there was none of us left? We survived him, you and I. And now you want to follow him into what? A massive slave revolt? A war against the British Empire? How is this not just the next storm in a very long line of them? You told me once that the people he holds closest are the most at risk of being consumed by him.” 

Silver remembered that conversation, and a part of his brain knew that Billy was right. But he badly wanted to believe that, now, unlike then, Flint would listen to him if his path got too dark. That their relationship had grown enough for that. 

“He and I have discussed it at length,” Silver said. “I thank you for your concern, but I’m going to be just fine.” 

“I’m not talking about you,” Billy said. “I understand that you’ve come to care for Madi.” 

Flint wouldn’t hurt Madi. “Be very, very careful Billy.” 

Billy wasn’t bothered by Silver’s threat. “If anyone is at risk of being consumed by his need for this war, it’s her.” 

Silver paused. Is that what was happening? Why Madi was very obviously warming up to Flint? Had he started to bring her around to his way of thinking?

But he didn’t want Billy to know his words had gotten to him. “Time’s up,” he said. “Go get Max.” 

Billy did as he was told. He brought her to the office where he and Silver had met and left with his men, hopefully to continue trying to bring order to the streets. At the moment, Silver didn’t care where he was, as long as he was out of his sight.

“I would think some sort of thanks might be in order,” Silver said to Max. “Billy was more than ready to throw you to the wolves out there. And to be honest, I was undecided about whether to go through with this deal at all. Sure, I get my men back in exchange for you. But something tells me if I free you, you’ll find a way to be a problem for me again, and soon.”

“Of course not,” Max said. “Why would I do that?”

Why wouldn’t you? “When you and I last saw each other, you had every reason to see me killed. Certainly would’ve solved a lot of problems for you. And yet you didn’t. Why?”

Max didn’t answer. 

Silver sighed. “You know... I’ve had a rough few days owing to you. I’d be angrier about it, but I’m a little preoccupied being angry with other people. But I still need an answer from you. Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?” 

“It would have solved some problems,” Max said. “It would have caused others that I chose not to live with.” 

“What sort of problems would it have caused?” Silver asked. 

“That I would have had to live with it.”

That was a surprising thing to hear from someone in Nassau. “You said you wished to send me away. Somewhere I couldn’t return from. Out of curiosity, how were you planning to manage that?” 

“When Anne was recruiting spies in Port Royal, she met a man with a plantation in the wilderness in Georgia, outside of Savannah,” Max said. “A reform-minded man who uses convicts as laborers. Convicts he solicits from prisons in England where their treatment is far less humane. But though they are treated kindly, it is impossible for them to leave. The security is that good.” Max chuckled then. “He even claimed that he’d been able to keep an immortal man from escaping. Someone he could not kill.” 

Silver had to repeat the last part to himself several times. “An immortal man. What was his name?” 

Max looked confused. “What?”

“Do you know the name of the man he claimed he could not kill?” Silver asked.

“I’m fairly certain he was exaggerating,” Max said. “Anne said he was eccentric.” 

But what if he wasn’t exaggerating?

The door to the office opened and Dooley stepped inside. “The fort says the prisoners are ready to be exchanged,” he said. 

Silver indicated for Max to go with Dooley. He would escort her to the fort for the exchange. 

After they had left, he grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill and ink from the desk and wrote a letter. He then folded it and rummaged around for wax to seal it with. When that had been done, he left the office to look for someone to deliver it. 

Outside the entrance to the town hall, Silver found Tom Morgan about to make his way inside. Silver called out to him.

“I was about to report to Flint, but I suppose I can tell you instead,” Morgan said, almost sounding relieved. “I’ve been able to get most of my crew in line. If there’s something that needs doing around town, there should be enough of us to handle it.”

“Good,” Silver said. “What about at sea?”

Morgan blinked. “What?”

“If I were to send you on an errand, would you have enough men to manage a ship?” Silver asked.

“I don’t have a ship. It’s grounded, same as yours,” Morgan said. 

“There’s nothing in the harbor?”

Morgan shook his head. “Nothing sizable, if you mean for it to be a long voyage. Most everyone took their ships and left when the fighting started. There’s a small yatcht and a ketch, but that’s it.” 

“Is there any way either of them could make it to Georgia? To Savannah?” 

Morgan frowned. “Why?”

“Just answer the question, please,” Silver said. 

“Yes, the yatcht might. If the weather’s good,” Morgan said hesitantly.

Silver handed Morgan the letter. “I need you to go there and find out about a plantation there that houses convicts from England. I need you to find the man who runs the estate and give him this letter. Make sure that he writes back. Let him know that if he doesn’t give a satisfactory answer, he will have to deal with me personally.”

“And I’d prefer if the specifics of this trip were kept quiet,” Silver added quickly. “No one outside of your crew needs to know anything. Is that understood?”

Morgan looked like he wanted to say no, but he took the letter and said, “Alright.”

“Thank you,” Silver said. 

After Morgan went to gather his men, Silver went to the fort to see how the prisoner exchange was going. When he arrived, Flint was already there. The prisoners had not come out yet. 

Silver stood beside Flint to wait. “Billy told me I should worry that you will be Madi’s end. That’s all he wanted in exchange for Max. For me to sit still while he warned me that your commitment to the greatest possible victory in this war of ours would consume her and eventually lead to her death.” 

Flint looked amused. “Well, that’s a smart thing for him to say if his intent is to split us apart. I suppose we should’ve expected nothing less. I assume I don’t need to be concerned that you took almost two hours to tell me about it?” 

Silver hesitated. “We are at our least rational when we’re at our most vulnerable. If nothing else, this is a good reminder that without a doubt she is the point at which I’m my most vulnerable. The thought of losing her...”

Silver couldn’t finish.

“I see,” Flint said quietly. 

“If we assume that we are on the verge of some impossible victory here, if we assume that victory is real and here for the taking, wouldn’t you trade it all to have Thomas back again?” Silver asked. 

Flint seemed puzzled by the question, but answered carefully, “I think if he knew how close we were to this victory, he wouldn’t want me to.” 

“I see,” Silver said quietly in turn. “Though that wasn’t really what I asked, was it? Assume that, instead of being cast into the sea, as you believe, someone intervened and chose a different path for him? A path you could follow him down?”

“That’s not what happened,” Flint said sharply. 

“Would you trade this war to make it so?” Silver asked. “It is some kind of hell to be forced to choose one irreplaceable thing over another. And while Billy’s motive to separate us is painfully transparent, it took me two hours to tell you about it because try as I may to get the conversation out of my head, I just can’t seem to do it.”

Flint tried to keep his expression neutral, but Silver could tell he was hurt. “The closer we get to the end of this journey, the more the contradictions will accumulate, confusing issues we once thought were clear. I suppose the good news is that’s how we’ll know we’re finally getting somewhere interesting.” 

The prisoners finally stepped out of the fort and Flint walked forward to meet them. The conversation was over. 

Silver saw Joji hurrying toward him. “Sails have been spotted on the horizon,” Joji said in his accented English as he reached him.

“Sails? Whose sails?” Silver asked.

“It appears to be The Revenge,” Joji answered. 

Teach’s ship. The only one of their fleet that hadn’t been grounded. Where had they been all this time? 

Silver rushed past him down to the beach. “Make sure Flint knows,” he called over his shoulder. 

Once he’d gotten down to the port, he grabbed the spyglass Dooley was holding and looked out at the approaching ship. 

Flint came up beside him. “The Revenge? Are we certain?”

“She’s a Man O’ War and she approaches from Captain Teach’s last sighted position,” Dooley said. 

“If it were Teach returning, wouldn’t he be flying his banner as he approached?” Silver asked. 

Flint took the spyglass and looked for himself. “She’s raising a banner,” he announced. A few seconds later, his hands dropped down. “British colors. It’s the governor’s.” 

Several other people shouted the same thing. The beach suddenly became a flurry of activity, everyone preparing to defend Nassau. 

Billy appeared beside Silver and Flint. “An hour, maybe less, until his guns are in range of the beach and he starts his landing,” he said. 

Flint agreed. “Once he can bring his broadsides to bear in concert with the fort’s power, it’ll be hard to keep his men off the sand.”

“Do we need to consider falling back?” Silver asked as a messenger appeared and handed a note to Flint. 

“No,” Billy said. “If we leave Nassau now, we may never get her back. My men can defend this beach.”

Flint nodded at him. “See that they’re ready.”

For once, Billy didn’t argue. He left at once to speak with his men. 

Silver saw that Flint looked worried. “We’ll have the numbers,” he reassured him. 

“The first barrage, maybe,” Flint said. “But as soon as those soldiers hit the beach, nine in ten of ours will flee. With Nassau at stake, that’s not a gamble I’m willing to take.”

“What choice do we have?” Silver asked.

Flint handed Silver the note. “Well, that’s a very good question.” 

Silver took the note and read it. Eleanor Guthrie wanted them to meet her at the entrance to one of the tunnels leading into the fort. 

Before Silver could argue, Flint was already making his way down the beach. 

When they got there, they found Eleanor waiting for them with two British soldiers. 

“Should this fight above us come to pass, at best, the outcome is not certain,” Eleanor said to both of them. “But what is certain is that many will die and much will be lost. I think we’ve all seen our fair share of loss and I have had enough of it. So, I’d like to ensure that this fight does not come to pass.”

“How do you suggest we do that?” Flint asked. 

Eleanor turned her attention solely to Flint. “I am prepared to surrender the governor’s remaining forces to you. Control of the fort, its guns, its magazines, the unconditional release of the remainder of your prisoners. All of it.”

Silver glanced at Flint. He looked doubtful. “You’re prepared to do all that?” 

“Yes.”

“In exchange for what?” Flint asked.

“In exchange for the cache,” Eleanor said. “The chest with the remains of the Urca treasure. I’m told it is hidden, buried in a secret place known only to Captain Rackham and the two of you. I get the cache and guaranteed safe passage off the island for everyone in this fort, and you get Nassau.”

“The money isn’t ours to give,” Flint said. “We have partners who would almost certainly rather fight this out than lose their treasury.” 

That wasn’t what Eleanor wanted to hear. “Your partners are your problem. There is a reason why I invited you here and not them. As soon as the governor’s ship is in range of the beach, this offer disappears. I will not undermine his position once the shooting starts. Right now, in this moment, you must decide what you want to do.” 

“How exactly would you see it done?” Flint asked. 

“One of you surrenders himself and remains here to ensure these terms are honored,” Eleanor said. “You send someone to retrieve the cache, and once it arrives, I take possession of it. And my people exit the fort to a transport waiting to take us away from here.”

“In the meantime,” Eleanor went on, “I would like to send my chambermaid and an escort out to the governor’s ship to explain to him what is going on. To tell him to leave and that I will meet him in Port Royal once this is resolved. I expect that they will be allowed to board a longboat without any issues from your people.”

Flint seemed to be considering it, so Silver stepped in. “The answer is no. Absolutely no.” To Flint, he said, “If she thought she could win this fight, why would she be offering to sell the victory to us, even for a fortune?”

“I have had enough of this,” Eleanor said again. “And I am ready for it to end.”

“No,” Silver said to Flint. 

“Trust me,” Flint replied. He removed his weapons. Eleanor opened the gate separating them and Flint stepped through. He, Eleanor, and the soldiers made their way back into the fort without another word.

I don’t know if I do, Silver thought. 

\---

Once inside the fort, James went with Eleanor to the parapet to see if the governor’s ship had stopped it’s approach. 

It had not. 

Eleanor turned to James. “If I wanted to fire a warning shot, how close would I have to aim for it to be effective?”

James was confused. “How close?”

“I’m not interested in holing his ship,” Eleanor clarified, “but need him to understand that I am committed to this.”

James looked out to the harbor. “He looks to be about 1,200 yards away and closing. I’d lead her by two ship lengths.” 

Eleanor ordered the soldiers to fire. 

The ship did not change its course. 

“Again, please,” Eleanor said.

The soldiers reloaded and fired again.

The ship finally began to turn away.

“Thank you,” Eleanor said to the soldiers, then had them take James down to a cell. 

James was left alone there for days - he lost track of how many. He had little idea of what was going on outside, though a guard did tell him, a few days in, that a ketch was seen departing, and that the fort had been told it was sent to retrieve the cache.

With nothing else to do, he focused on the black woman in his dreams. Around the time that Miranda had been killed, the woman had been stabbed repeatedly and dragged onboard a pirate ship, where she was kept for several months in the brig. When she’d finally been let out, after returning home briefly, she returned to the ship, this time as a member of the crew. James wasn’t sure what exactly she was doing. She and the captain seemed to be planning something. He was even teaching her how to fight. 

What on earth had she gotten herself into? 

This was what James was thinking about when soldiers came and finally removed him from the cell, telling him that the ship with the cache was returning and that he was to be taken back to his men. But the instructions Silver gave for the exchange were a bit odd. James was to be brought to the entrance to the northwest tunnel, where he’d then be escorted over land to the southern coast. The exchange would happen there, not in Nassau. 

James was not sure what this meant. What had happened while he’d been in that cell? Still, when Eleanor questioned him about it, he tried to make it seem rational. “Sailing a fortune in jewels into the harbor in full view of a beach filled with enraged pirates, you can understand the reluctance. This way, there will be far less risk of anyone disturbing the exchange.” 

Eleanor didn’t look convinced. “I saw Mr. Silver’s face when you accepted this deal, and I imagine you did, too. If there is anyone on that beach with a desire to disrupt this exchange, I’m concerned he may be first among them.”

“I’m not concerned,” James said. This was mostly true, at least in regard to Silver. He may not have understood why James had done what he’d done, but Madi would. When she got back from the Underhill plantation - which she surely had by now - she would’ve made him see it was the right thing to do. 

Eleanor still looked worried, but she called for an escort, anyway. Six soldiers went with them into the tunnel. 

On the way through, Eleanor asked James, “Do you know where the yatcht went?”

“What yatcht?” 

“A yatcht left the harbor not long before the ketch sent to retrieve the cache,” Eleanor said. “It returned to the harbor early this morning.” 

“I have no idea,” James said. He really didn’t. He wasn’t sure if Eleanor believed him, but she didn’t say anything else. 

When they finally made it to the end of the tunnel and stepped outside, they were not met by Silver, as James had expected, but by Madi. 

“What’s happening?” James asked her.

She explained, as they walked, that Billy had wanted to kill James after he was returned, to get him out of the way, so Silver had changed the location of the exchange without telling Billy. She did not say what would happen to Billy at the original location, but James suspected he knew. 

When he asked her about the yatcht, she said she didn’t know. She seemed to be telling the truth.

Silver must be up to something, James thought. He catalogued the issue away to be worried about later. 

In another surprise, when they got to the southern coast, they did not find their men on the beach with the cache. It was, instead, Jack Rackham and members of his crew. 

James walked down the beach to talk to him. “What are you doing here?”

“We escaped the governor’s men and came back to rejoin the fight, but didn’t know if the harbor was safe to enter,” Rackham said. “What are you doing here?”

James explained everything that had happened. 

When he was done, Rackham didn’t look very happy. “That wasn’t yours to trade,” he said angrily of the cache. “It’s mine, as well.”

“It was the only way we could avoid a fight we were more than likely to lose,” James said. “And it guarantees us control of the island.”

Rackham didn’t agree. “All it guarantees is we no longer have the cache that we all agreed was critical. And who decided this? You and Mr. Silver?”

“It was my decision,” James said. If Rackham was going to hate anyone, it might as well be him. 

“Ah,” Rackham said, not surprised. “Well, it won’t work.” 

James sighed. “It’s done. It’s already agreed to.”

Rackham looked past James to where Eleanor was standing, watching. “She agreed to it. Her people agreed. You’ve agreed. But it’s all meaningless unless and until Governor Rogers agrees.” 

“He left the island for Port Royal as she asked to await her arrival with the money,” James said. “He’s already agreed to it.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Rackham insisted. He looked almost scared. “I watched him defeat Edward Teach in battle, outnumbered and through sheer force of will. I saw his bloodlust with my own eyes. That man will never surrender his position here. He will never allow himself to be defeated by you or I. Not because we bribed him, not because Eleanor Guthrie told him so. He simply will not allow it to happen. I don’t know where that man went or what designs drew him there, but this I know - Woodes Rogers will be returning and this fight isn’t nearly over.” 

Fuck.

\---

On the Underhill plantation, Silver watched as the estates’ former slaves had their chains removed. 

Ruth, an old friend of Madi’s mother, saw him watching and said, “When your people took this place, it was they who suffered the consequences. Reprisals visited upon their mothers, brothers, children. Tortured on the other farms as a result of your actions.”

“I understand,” Silver said. “Which is why I’ve come here to make that right.” 

Ruth didn’t look impressed. “If you had suffered such loss, is there anything you can imagine making it right?”

“No, I can’t,” Silver admitted. “But I imagine getting my hands on the man responsible for it would be a start.” Silver nodded to where Billy was being dragged through the dirt toward them by Hands. “He completed the raid when my friends tried to stop it. He chained those he felt most likely to revolt over the offense. Though, I imagine they know this,” he said of the people still being unchained. 

“With what conditions?” Ruth asked. 

“Two of them,” Silver said. “They respect you, so they’ll listen to you. I’d ask your help in mending this alliance, both with the men and women here and those elsewhere on the island. I understand there’s now a band of armed slaves out there, led by a man named Julius. I need to know you can broker a peace with them, too.” 

Ruth agreed. “And the other condition?”

Silver nodded toward Billy. “That he’s alive at the end of whatever happens.”

Ruth looked less certain, but agreed to that, too. 

Silver gave Hands a look and he deposited Billy on the ground in front of the unchained men and women. They picked him up and drug him off somewhere, to do what they would. 

Later, when they were done with him, Silver went to speak to him. Despite everything, he still considered Billy a friend. But the vendetta against Flint needed to be over. He asked Billy if he could allow that to happen. 

Billy turned his bloody face to Silver. “No.” 

That wasn’t what Silver wanted to hear, but he’d expected it. He wanted to say something, anything, to try to convince him, but Ben Gunn approached him with news. “Julius and his people are here,” he said. 

Silver left Bill and went to meet with them. 

“The governor’s forces have been driven out of Nassau,” Silver explained to them. “In a few hours, the last remaining member of his regime will be surrendering the fort, leaving the island completely under our control. It is a new day. But one that demands we all unite behind a common cause.” 

“What cause is that?” Julius asked. 

“To free the New World,” Silver answered. 

Julius looked wary. “And we will be your partners in the fight to free it?” 

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“How long?”

“I’m told you removed the one who governed the pirates before you,” Julius said. “Sacrificed him in the hopes that it would remake this alliance-”

“Know that man was a friend of mine before you question the sacrifice,” Silver cut in. 

That only disturbed Julius further. “Amongst pirates, loyalty changes quickly, it seems. If a man can be replaced so easily, how can I know that his promises won’t be, too?” 

Silver opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by Dooley rushing up to them, eyes wide. “Spain is here,” he said. 

Silver immediately excused himself to speak with him. 

“Twelve ships, likely in excess of a thousand men,” Dooley reported. “There won’t be much time before we’re overrun. Mr. Featherstone awaits on the repaired Walrus off the south coast if we wish to retreat.”

“If?” Gunn asked. “A thousand Spanish fighters are more than three times our number could withstand. What can we do but retreat?”

“We’re not leaving,” Silver said. 

“If it’s Madi that concerns you, we could send someone out to find her,” Gunn said. “We wouldn’t be leaving her behind.”

Madi’s with Flint, Silver thought. He’ll protect her. “Madi and Flint will either find their way back here or they’ll find a place to hide. But even if they were here, we cannot retreat. Not with our numbers. The Spanish would run us down. We’d end up facing them disorganized out there rather than entrenched here.”

“So, what do we do?” Dooley asked.

Silver looked to Julius, who was standing nearby listening. “If we fight them together, there’s a good chance we live, hold our ground, maybe even fight them off. Separate, and we all die. Gather your men and make this the last battle to win the island.”

Julius clearly had other plans in mind. He took his men and left. 

Trying not to seem discouraged, Silver sent Gunn out as a lookout to tell them when the Spanish were nearing. Everyone else, he set to work barricading the plantation and handing out weapons.

When that was done, all there was to do was wait. 

Silver thought back to that morning, when Tom Morgan and his crew had returned from their trip to Savannah, thought about the letter they brought with them.

James Oglethorpe, the owner of the plantation that housed English convicts, did in fact have a man there that he claimed was immortal. His name was Thomas. And, yes, Oglethorpe would be willing to take on another inmate, an inmate of a similar nature, for the right price.

Silver hated himself for asking, for having felt the need to ask, but... he knew what Flint was. He knew the lengths he would go to, could go to, to see this war through. Silver believed he could control him, but if he couldn’t... it was good to have another option.

Someone shouted that Gunn was running back toward the main gate, and Silver’s attention shot back to the present. 

They opened the gate and let Gunn in. “You’ve seen them?” Silver asked him.

“They’re right around the bend,” Gunn said. “Eighty, maybe a hundred headed this way.”

Dooley considered this. “If we’re lucky and it’s on the lighter end, we might actually be able to hold them off.”

“‘If we’re lucky’ is not a notion that’s worked well for us recently,” Silver said. “You have men positioned by the south and west gates?”

“As many as we could afford, which isn’t many,” Dooley said. 

The battle started in short order. Silver stood by, ensuring everyone was where they needed to be. Until he started to hear a rumbling sound. 

He walked away from the men, trying to get a better idea of where it was coming from. 

Dooley saw him leave and followed him. “What is it?” 

“Can you hear that?” Silver asked. The sound was coming from the cane fields, he realized. “How many men are watching the south end of those fields?”

“I think four,” Dooley said. 

The rumbling grew louder. And then Spanish soldiers on horseback emerged from the fields, muskets in hand. 

“They’re coming!” Silver shouted back toward the main gate, where most of the men had their backs turned to the plantation, still trying to deal with those on the other side. 

“Get off the gate! Get off the gate!” Silver heard Hands shout.

Chaos ensued. More and more soldiers entered the plantation through the fields. 

“Retreat! Retreat!” Hands finally shouted. There was nothing else left they could do.

Until Julius and his men reappeared. With their numbers, they were able to turn the fight in their favor, and it was the Spanish, instead, that retreated. 

By some miracle, they’d won. 

As they began to account for their dead and wounded, Flint arrived with a handful of British soldiers, and Obi, one of Madi’s men.

“How many?” Flint asked, looking around at the damage. 

“A hundred, give or take,” Silver said. “Roughly half withdrew, but I imagine it was not without intent to return, and with greater numbers.”

Flint nodded. He looked pale and nervous. It was a look Silver had not seen on Flint since shortly after Miranda had died.

And then he realized. “Where’s Madi?”

Flint couldn’t answer. He just looked at Silver helplessly. 

No. No no no...

She couldn’t be dead. Not her. 

Unaware, Dooley approached, and began speaking to the two of them. “We’ve got about thirty able-bodied men left, plus Julius’ men. We should be able to defend the main gate and have men to spare to prevent another move through the cane fields.”

Flint shook his head. “We can’t.”

Dooley seemed surprised. “Can’t? We just drove them off once.”

“And it cost you half your number,” Flint said. “Spanish regulars will not allow themselves to be defeated by us. And when they return with three times as many reinforcements, what do you imagine will happen then?”

Dooley was not deterred. “We know they’re coming now. We’ll be ready.”

Silver finally found his voice. “It’s over,” he managed. “It’s over.”

Silver saw Flint step close to Dooley to give him orders. He couldn’t hear what was said and he didn’t care. 

Madi was dead.

He was vaguely aware, through Flint’s direction, of getting on a horse, riding to the beach, getting on a longboat, rowing out to the Walrus, and making his way numbly to the captain’s cabin. Flint had told him he could stay there, that he would handle everything. 

Silver knew they were on their way back to Maroon Island. Flint came to see him everyday of the journey, to give him updates on what was going on. Silver didn’t know why he bothered. What was the point to anything anymore? 

“We’ll be arriving at the island soon,” Flint said one day during his visit. 

“Still no sign of Rackham?” Silver asked absently. Flint had told him Rackham’s ship had broken away from theirs and begun sailing north, to God knows where. 

“No.” 

“Do you really think they just...” Silver didn’t bother to finish the thought.

“Abandoned us?” Flint supplied. “Yes.”

Silver had his back to the room, so he couldn’t see Flint, but he could hear him walking carefully toward him. 

“I’m sorry,” Flint said for the thousandth time. He came and sat down beside Silver. He didn’t usually get any farther than that. At that point, he got back up quickly and left, leaving Silver to his grief. But today, he said, “I need you to know that I did everything I could to keep Madi safe. I don’t expect that to mean anything.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Silver said. And it wasn’t Flint’s fault, not really. But at the same time... none of them would have even been there if it weren’t for him. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said again, trying to ignore that thought.

When Flint did get up to leave, he placed a hand on Silver’s shoulder briefly. Silver knew he was trying to convey something, to tell him the words that he was struggling to pass through his lips, but Silver didn’t care.

Madi was dead. 

Then something strange happened. Shortly after Flint left, he came back and told Silver that as they’d near Maroon Island, about a dozen ships came into view anchored off the coast. They appeared to be friendly. 

Flint encouraged him to come and see for himself. He did so, and when the Walrus was close enough to anchor themselves, Silver was one of the first onto the longboats. 

When they reached the camp, they found it filled with new pirates and maroons alike. They found the Maroon Queen waiting for them near the meeting hall. 

“They had already begun to arrive when Kofi came with the request for the cache,” she said as Flint approached her. “You can understand why I didn’t let him go. They came from other islands, the colonies, maroons from camps like this one, pirates from as far away as Massachusetts. They heard that Nassau had fallen and they came to join us. The revolution your promised has begun.”

Maybe this war could be won after all. With these numbers, it wasn’t so hopeless, Silver thought. 

If nothing else, he would see it through for Madi. It’s what she would have wanted, what she died for. 

He just had to make sure Flint didn’t screw it up.

\---

**Maroon Island**

James was standing near the entrance to the meeting hall, listening as the various newcomers discussed amongst themselves the best way to begin the next phase of the revolution. 

Silver entered the hall and came to stand beside him. “No one’s at each other’s throats yet?”

“Whatever their differences, everyone is here to be part of ending colonial rule in the New World,” James said. “As long as that’s a possibility, no one wants to be the one to spoil the chance.”

Silver gestured toward a group of pirates and maroons speaking excitedly to one another. “What’s this?”

“Discussing an attack on St. Ann’s Bay as a first strike,” James answered. “They’ve all been through there in recent months. Trying to agree on what kind of resistance we’d likely face.”

James turned to look properly at Silver. Once he’d seen the ships anchored off the coast of the island and learned what they were there for, he had seemed to come out of the tunnel he’d been in since James had had to tell him Madi was dead. But he’d still been the one to carry the burden of telling the Maroon Queen. It had weighed on him a great deal. “How is she?” James asked.

“She’s breathing,” Silver said. 

“How are you?”

Silver didn’t answer. Maybe he hadn’t come out of the tunnel, after all. 

James heard something in the discussion around him that sparked his interest. He stepped in, and after asking a few questions, he came to the conclusion, “It might just be enough for us to sack Boston.”

“Boston?” Silver asked. Several others began to murmur at this assertion.

“Fools,” someone cut in. It was Julius. “You’re all fools if you think this road leads to where he says it does,” he said. 

“I have not proven to you my commitment to our common cause?” James asked. 

“What happens when our enemy realizes that all it needs to do to defeat us is to take away that common cause?” Julius asked. “Turn one against the other. And when that happens, as it is all but certain to do, which of us standing here are likely to be the ones who benefit and which the ones sold back into their chains?”

Of course, James knew he had a point. He wanted to respond calmly, but Silver jumped in. 

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” he asked angrily. 

Julius turned to him. “I saved your men’s lives and yours from the fight you started but could not finish. And now you would start another that no man can hope to finish?”

“Then leave,” Silver said. “But what’s happening here is going to happen. This war is going to begin. This camp is going to fight it, with or without you.”

“They may call you a king, but only in the kingdom that is no more,” Julius said. “We’re all free men here. And I wish to stay that way.”

“As do we all,” a strong voice said. The Maroon Queen had entered the hall. “Will you join me?” she asked Julius, gesturing for him to come and meet with her privately. 

Julius bowed his head and followed her out. If anyone could convince him to join their cause, it would be her. 

The meeting dispersed after that. James followed Silver back to his hut. 

Silver sank to the floor, his head in his hands. “From the moment he started speaking, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She died for this. She believed in this, and if it all goes away, then it was all for nothing. I can’t let this be for nothing. I just can’t. It has to mean something.” 

James sat down across from him. “When I was drowning over Miranda you helped me find my way out. Look at me.”

Silver slowly looked up at him. 

“I will do the same for you,” James said softly. “I give you my word. But in order to do that, you have to trust my judgement for a little while, while yours is reeling.”

Silver puzzled over that for a moment. “You think Julius gained momentum from what I said?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” James said. “Everything is moving forward. Just trust me.” 

“Excuse me,” Obi said from the entrance to the hut. “A letter has arrived from Nassau. The queen would like to speak with the two of you.”

James helped Silver up and they made their way to see the Maroon Queen, where she handed the letter over to them to read. Among other things, it said that Madi was alive. 

“She is being held hostage by the governor in Nassau,” the Maroon Queen summarized. “Unless we bring Rogers the cache and surrender it to him by his deadline, she dies. In addition to that, he’d like for us to sign a treaty that would give all the fugitive slaves in this camp immediate emancipation, with the condition that any escaped slaves who seek refuge with us in the future must be surrendered to the law, and any pirate at any time who seeks refuge must be surrendered to the law.” 

“Who else knows about this?” Silver asked. 

“No one,” the Queen answered. “I summoned only the two of you. My daughter is everything to me, as I believe she is to you. But I cannot accept a treaty that would ask me to turn people away, to allow them to be put in chains. This war must be fought. And that cache is critical to the success of it. And worse yet, if it were to be dug out of the ground under cover of night, it would do irreparable damage to our allies’ trust in us.”

“So we don’t do it under the cover of night,” Silver said. “We make the argument. And how would they even know if you were following the treaty? Are they going to keep a ship anchored off your coast at all times? None of this is just sentiment. Madi is important to the cause in her own right. Some of the men out there will agree, and we can...”

Silver looked between the Queen and James and saw that they did not agree. 

“It doesn’t matter if some of them agree,” James said. 

“You’re suggesting we just refuse?” Silver asked. “They’ll kill her.”

James knew he had to tread carefully. “If we even introduce this question to the men in this camp, lines will be drawn, fighting will ensue. This alliance is far too fragile at this stage to withstand that kind of turmoil. We can pay the ransom and sign the treaty or we can have our way, but we cannot have both.” 

“Not too long ago, you were willing to trade that money for a fucking fort,” Silver said. “And now it’s too important to trade for Madi’s life?”

“Things have changed,” James said. 

Silver was getting desperate. “Nothing has changed that justifies trading her life for your war.”

“No one is saying that we let her die,” James said. 

“No? Because that is certainly what it sounds like.”

Oh, John, please don’t do this, James thought. “We will find a way to get her back. We just cannot sacrifice the cache, or the sanctuary this island provides, in order to do it.”

“Is this war more important than her life?” Silver asked. 

James sighed. Why couldn’t he understand? 

“Answer the question,” Silver demanded. “I wanna hear you say it. Is this war more important than her life?” 

“Right now, with what’s at stake, it is more important.”

Silver looked like he might punch him. “Oh, fuck you!”

“We cannot permit Woodes Rogers to divide us like this,” James said. “I will not permit it. Madi would not permit it, and you know it. But we’re not going to permit him to kill her, either. We will sail-”

“You cannot guarantee that-”

James pressed on, “We will sail to Nassau under cover of night. We will find her. We will kill anyone who stands in our way. And we will bring her home. When you and I are of the same mind there is nothing we have not yet been able to do. I believe that. I trust it. Do you?”

James could tell Silver wanted to say yes, but something was holding him back. Still, he agreed to the plan and they sailed for Nassau. 

\---

**Onboard the Walrus**

The morning after Kofi and his men had been sent into Nassau to retrieve Madi, Silver was awoken to the news that they had not yet returned, and that Governor Rogers’ ship, the Eurydice, had slipped in behind them during the night. By the time he, along with Flint, made it out onto the deck, the other ship was already anchored and waiting. 

The two of them grabbed spyglasses to get a better look at the ship. Before they’d focused, Dooley, a step ahead of them, exclaimed, “Jesus Christ! On their rail!” 

Silver looked. Kofi and his men were lined up there, their hands tied. 

“He caught them,” Dooley said in disbelief. “How’s that possible? Overnight?”

Silver continued looking through the spyglass, scanning the deck. His blood ran cold when he saw Billy. He must have been captured and forced to tell them the routes the resistance typically used. 

And then Silver saw Madi. She was tied up like her men. 

Billy, Silver realized, was not.

Kofi was pulled forward from the line, and without hesitation, Rogers shot him in the head. His body was tossed overboard.

Another man, whose name Silver did not know, was brought up to replace Kofi.

“Back the fore-topsails. Bring us about,” Silver heard Flint say to De Groot. Then shouted, “Gun crews at the ready!”

Others began shouting orders, preparing for an attack.

“What are you doing?” Silver asked Flint.

“We bring our guns to bear, he’ll think twice about killing her,” Flint said. 

“Belay that order!” Silver shouted. Everyone paused. Silver turned to Hands. “Go get the cache. Bring it up here now.”

“Go get the cache?” Flint repeated. “You brought it with us?”

Silver didn’t want to discuss this now. “Your plan failed. We’re moving on to my plan. Do not repeat your order. Do not think about it.”

By some miracle, Flint kept quiet.

Through the spyglass, Silver saw two soldiers bring Madi to Rogers’ side. The governor was reloading his pistol. He had already killed all of the other prisoners. Silver’s heart was pounding in his chest. 

Hands and a few other crewmen returned to the deck with the cache. 

“Get it where they can see it,” Silver ordered them. Then to De Groot, he said, “Signal Rogers.”

De Groot paused. He looked to Flint.

“Go!” Silver shouted. 

De Groot glared at Silver, not appreciating being yelled at, but did as he was told. “Signal the ship,” he yelled. “Do it now! Strike the bell!”

The Walrus’ bell rang, and Rogers paused with his pistol pointed at Madi. The pistol lowered. 

“Open it,” Silver said of the cache. The men did so. 

Rogers had his men take Madi below deck.

Silver let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. But before he could let out another, Dooley said, “He’s hauling up the anchor. Where the fuck is he going?” 

“Wherever he’s going, we follow him,” Silver said. He turned to Flint. The other man looked angry. He stalked off to his cabin. Silver followed him.

Once they were inside and alone, Flint said, “You should have trusted me. You’re making a mistake. Madi would not want you to do this. You know what this war means to her.”

“Madi is not here,” Silver said. “I am and-”

“If you loved her-”

How dare he. “Of course I love her! I let you try it your way! I did trust you. But I’m through wagering with her life now. If what it takes to secure her release is to turn over the cache, I’m very glad I brought it with us.”

“We had it,” Flint said. “We had it in our hands. This war was breathing air, it was alive. Now Julius is back in that camp, pointing to a hole in the ground, telling anyone who will listen, ‘This is what it looks like when you trust a pirate’. Yesterday, he had nothing. He was shouting at the rain. Now you’ve given him all he needs to kill this war dead.” 

“My God,” Silver said. “The number of times I have followed you blindly, backed you with the men blindly, put men in the fucking ground, good men, friends, because you said, ‘I know the way, don’t ask me how, just do as I say’. I may not have understood it, I may not have supported it, but I did it! And goddamnit, right now you’re going to return the favor! We will find a way to put it all back together with whatever we have left at our disposal. But do not ask me to choose between a war and a wife. I do not think you’re going to like the answer. Whatever must be done to secure Madi’s release, I’m going to do it. I do not expect your understanding, but I demand your support. As my partner, as my friend. Do I have it?”

Flint struggled to answer. Finally, he said, “Yes.”

That was all Silver needed to hear. 

At dinner, Flint avoided Silver, choosing to sit with Dooley instead. So he had to make do with Hands’ company. 

“If you leave Flint alive long enough, he’s going to make you pay for it,” Hands said. 

“He won’t move against me,” Silver said. “This will pass. And that’s the end of this conversation.” 

Hands kept talking. “So many lies to deny a simple truth.”

“What?”

“The crown does not divide,” Hands said. “It cannot be shared. You know it. You want it done. You just don’t know how to ask yet.”

“Hear me very clearly,” Silver said dangerously. “There is no hidden message and no equivocation. You will make no move against Flint. You will not speak of doing so to any man on this crew nor to me again. Do it and you’ll answer for it.”

Silver got up and left, no longer hungry.

Not longer after they reached Skeleton Island, Rogers’ chosen destination, Hands called for Silver to come up to the deck. He told him that Flint, along with Dooley, had killed the man they had guarding the cache and taken it. He then handed him a spyglass and pointed toward the shore.

Through it, he saw that Flint and Dooley had taken a longboat and rowed to shore. With the cache. 

No. No no no...

“Do you see it now?” Hands asked him. “Do you see it?”

Yes. But he did not want to. “Find five men you trust. Take a launch and follow them.” 

As Hands made to leave, Silver said, “Have another launch prepared, as well. I need to go to the governor’s ship.”

Onboard the Eurydice, Silver addressed Rogers, “Captain Flint killed one of my men and managed to haul the cache to shore. I came in the hopes my presence might buy us some time before you reacted to this news until I am able to remedy the situation.”

“What sort of remedy is that?” Rogers asked. 

“I sent six of my men after him. The best men I have left. Their orders, in no uncertain terms, are to track Captain Flint and retrieve the cache,” Silver said. 

“There was another order,” Billy said from behind Rogers. “Wasn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“What else did you tell them to do?” Billy asked. 

“I instructed them to kill Captain Flint,” Silver said. Of course, he knew their attempts would be in vain, but they could at least slow him down, hopefully long enough to get the cache, hopefully long enough to get him to Savannah.

He’d had enough of this. 

\---

**Skeleton Island**

James and Dooley dragged the cache into the treeline. 

“We’re not going to be able to get very far with this,” Dooley said. “And Silver’s going to be sending men after us shortly.”

“I know,” James said. “We’ll need to deposit this somewhere temporary, split up, and then, once his men have gone off looking for us, double back and find a more permanent burying place.”

Dooley frowned. “You think it will need to be permanent?”

James hesitated. “I think we should prepare for the worst.”

Dooley looked uncertain, but he nodded. He pointed to some nettle plants down the path from them. “Do you think that will work for now? They’re likely not to go too near those.”

James helped him carry the cache there, and then carefully helped him deposit it into the stinging leaves.

As they did so, they began to hear voices. They were coming their way.

Dooley turned to James. “We should split up, confuse them further.”

James wasn’t going to argue. Taking his shovel with him, he veered off in one direction, Dooley in the other.

After some time, when James started to hear voices again, he stopped in a clearing and pretended to dig, trying to lure the men closer to him. When he heard a twig snap nearby - these were really the best people Silver could muster? - he slipped into the bushes nearby and waited. 

When three men entered the clearing and had their backs turned to James’ location, he charged forward and slit the closest man’s throat from behind. As the next one turned, he stabbed him in the stomach. The man collapsed to the ground, and as James tried to pull his knife free, it got stuck in his shirt and the third man tackled him, unbalancing them both. James recovered first and punched the man in the face, then grabbed a rock and bashed his head in with it. 

James laid on the ground, breathless. This was not what he’d wanted. 

He slowly got up and made his way back to meet Dooley. 

They took the cache down a cliff and into a small valley. 

“You think they’ll figure it out they’re going in the wrong direction?” Dooley asked. 

“Most likely they will at some point,” James said. “We need to get this in the ground.” 

As they walked across the valley, Dooley said, “I heard some talk in the camp before we left. They were talking about what happens when it’s over, if the war ends up what everyone says it will be, about the spoils we all stand to gain from it. But what you’re talking about is bigger than that, isn’t it? But if we are to succeed and leave this island with the alliance intact, I’m having a hard time seeing how Mr. Silver can be a part of that now.”

James didn’t like what Dooley was implying. “He’ll come around. Once Madi is safe, then he’ll be able to see things clearly again.” 

“I hope so,” Dooley said. “If not, if he needs to go... You’re too important to what comes next to have to bear a burden like that. So, when the time comes, I’ll do it.” 

If you try, I’ll have to stop you, the thought came instantly. There was a rational part of his brain that told him Dooley was right, but it was having trouble winning. ‘John Silver must not die’ kept playing in his head. 

They reached the other side of the valley and stepped back into the forest. They were only a few hundred feet in when Joji appeared in the path before them, followed by another man from the crew.

James and Dooley sat the cache down. They pulled their swords and attacked, Dooley going from Joji, and James for the other. 

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw Joji get the best of Dooley and stab him in the hand, pinning him to the ground. He made no attempt to kill him. They’re only here for me, James thought. 

James easily took out the other man, and then turned to Joji. He had known the quiet man for a long time, almost since he’d become a Nassau pirate all those years ago. He did not want to do it, but what other choice did he have? 

He and Joji danced around each other for a few moments before finally crossing blades. They spared for some time, Joji getting a little too close on a few occasions, until James was finally able to drive his sword into the other man’s side. 

As Joji collapsed to the ground, James looked up and saw Silver and Hands in the distance, standing at the top of the cliff he and Dooley had climbed down. 

James hurried back to Dooley. They found a cave nearby and took the cache inside. 

“They’ll be upon us soon,” James said as Dooley bandaged his hand. “Can you manage to put it in the ground on your own? I’ll go stall them.”

Dooley took the shovel and got up. James left.

James stumbled across Hands by a river, his back to him. He cocked his pistol and the other man turned.

“It would be preferable to me if we resolved this another way,” James said, his pistol pointed at Hands. “The cache is in the ground by now. And I’ll need as many men as we can get for what comes next. That includes you.”

James dropped the pistol and stuck it in his belt. 

“Silver’ll be here in a moment,” Hands said. “You still think you’ll persuade him to see this all your way? I don’t think so. But I’d prefer not to find out.” 

Hands reached for his sword and James did the same. They came at each other, not making much ground, until James was able to make a slash across Hands’ sword arm. Hands tried to continue fighting with his other arm, but James quickly took advantage. As he was about to land a fatal blow, someone shouted, “That’s enough!”

Silver. 

James kneed Hands hard in the face, knocking him out. 

“Tell me where the cache is,” Silver demanded.

James turned to face him. “I can’t do that.”

“Fuck you! Where is it?”

“You’re making a mistake,” James said. 

“Fuck you! Where is it?”

James sighed. “In the ground, where it stays until Madi is freed, and we gather it and return it to the camp, all of us. I know you cannot see why this must be. But it must be. And every moment we waste is a moment we could be working to retrieve her.” 

“That’s all this has ever been, isn’t it?” Silver asked. “A partnership only insofar as it enables you to do whatever it is that matters to you in any given moment. And right now it matters far less to you whether she lives or dies than it happens your way, on your terms.” 

“I think you know it’s far more complicated than that,” James said. “I’m certain she does. Even if you could kill me, as I believe that’s what you sent your men to try and do, even if that somehow helped you see her alive again, how are you going to explain it to her? She believes in this as much as I do. You know this. If it costs the war to save her, you’ll have lost her, anyway. Even you cannot construct a story to make her forgive you that.”

Silver put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“You do this, and you’re gonna regret it,” James warned. 

Silver drew his sword.

Dooley emerged from the bushes behind Silver and lifted his pistol.

James panicked. “No! Don’t!”

Doodey didn’t listen. He had his finger on the trigger. James quickly pulled his own pistol and shot him in the chest. 

Realizing what happened, Silver starred at James in stunned silence. He’d just killed his last ally.

But in the next moment, Silver charged forward. They fought. 

But before either of them could do serious damage, there was an explosion in the distance. 

They stopped. They both knew what that likely meant, and temporarily forgot their disagreement to find a place to look out to where they’d anchored. 

When they reached a cliff that looked out onto the inlet, they saw that the Walrus was on fire, their men were in the water, and English soldiers were in longboats shooting at them. 

James wanted to weep. 

\---

Silver, Flint, and a now-conscious Hands made their way back to the inlet to help the remaining Walrus crewman onto the shore. The governor’s men were still firing upon them, trying to pick off as many as they could.

They continued to do so until a whistle sounded from the Eurydice, indicating that another ship had arrived. The soldiers returned to their ship, and it began to sail out of the inlet. 

Flint went to get a look at the arriving ship, came back, and told them that it was Jack Rackham’s, the Lion. 

As the survivors made their way down the inlet to board the ship, Silver wondered how the hell Rackham had gotten there, to an uncharted island. And more importantly, why. 

Once onboard, Silver and Flint approached Rackham.

“Rogers is heading to open water,” Flint said of the departing ship. 

“I noticed,” Rackham said shortly. “Does he have what he came for? The cache?”

Flint’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?”

“We were at the camp,” Rackham explained. “They told me you brought the cache to ransom for Madi’s life.”

Silver couldn’t help but notice that Rackham was staring at Flint strangely, almost as though he were seeing a ghost. What the hell was going on?

Flint didn’t seem to notice. “It’s in the ground,” he said of the cache. “Ashore. I’m the only one who knows where.”

Anyone alive, anyway. Silver was still processing that Flint had killed Dooley. The man had meant Flint no harm, clearly the opposite. It would have solved a lot of problems for Flint if he’d just let Dooley shoot him. Why hadn’t he? 

Flint continued, “It comes out when Madi is safe, when the governor is dead or captured, and when we are ready to return together to the camp to resume the war to which we all committed ourselves. Then and only then. Can you live with that?”

Rackham didn’t answer. Instead, he gestured at the retreating Eurydice. “She runs or she wants room to fight this out?”

“You’ve met the man,” Flint said. “You already know which. He’ll never stop until we’re all hanging in his square. Unless we defeat him today, together.”

Rackham thought for a moment, then said to his crew, “Get us underway and ready the guns.”

As his men began shouting orders about, Flint said to Rackham, “We should speak privately. The three of us.” 

Rackham turned without a word and Silver and Flint followed him into his cabin. 

“What exactly is it you’d like to discuss?” Rackham asked when they were alone. 

“Where did you go?” Flint asked. “After the Spanish invasion? You were to follow us to the camp. Instead, your ship disappears and then you arrive here as though none of it happened. Before we discuss anything else, I wanna know where you went.”

“I went to Philadelphia to see Joseph Guthrie,” Rackham said. 

Flint looked skeptical. “You went to see Joseph Guthrie?”

Rackham nodded. “I presented him with a plan to join our cause. Every rebellion can use a wealthy convert or two early in the game.” 

“What did he say?” Flint asked.

“He politely passed,” Rackham said. “Anne remained to be tended to in the city. Max with her.”

Some of that was the truth, but not all of it, Silver realized. There was no way that Rackham would have taken a proposal about a war against England to Joseph Guthrie. Though he had likely spoken to Mr. Guthrie, it was likely about a plan of his own making. Or Max’s. 

“Now that we’re all caught up,” Rackham rushed on, “might we agree there are more pressing issues at hand? Namely, what we intend to do from here.”

“I intend to assume command here, pursue the governor, and capture his ship,” Flint said. 

“Is that so?” Rackham asked, his tone almost sarcastic.

Flint wasn’t deterred. “We’ll need to take her without the use of our great guns. It will be technically beyond your capacities.” 

“Without the guns?” Rackham repeated. “Why?”

“It would put Madi’s life at greater risk,” Flint said. “Securing her alive is all that matters today. Return her and the cache back to the camp intact along with the governor defeated and in chains. And news of it will travel far and wide. The war will be fully, undeniably, and maybe unstoppably underway. Victory here today changes everything for everyone forever. And it is most likely to happen under my direction.” 

“Do you have anything to say about this?” Rackham asked. 

Silver looked up and realized Rackham was talking to him. All he could say was, “He’s right. And you know it.”

The only way to get Madi off that ship, at this point, was to go into battle. Flint was the best suited for handling that. 

Rackham sighed and left the cabin, mumbling something about ‘you people’. 

After he’d left, Flint shut the door behind him and came back to talk to Silver. “We need to watch him. The governor is the danger ahead of us. But if Rackham has a chance to put knives in our backs for the money, he’ll do it.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Silver snapped at him. “What the hell is this? You cannot honestly believe that placating me is going to repair what’s been broken here.” 

“I absolutely think that it is repairable. And no one is placating anyone.” 

“Then what exactly is it you think you’re doing here?” Silver asked. 

“I know what it's like to lose someone,” Flint said. “I know what it feels like. You asked me once what I would do, what I would sacrifice, if it meant having Thomas back again. I honestly don’t know the answer to that. I honestly don’t know that I wouldn’t make the same choices you’re making. But I told you I’d see you through this. I meant it.”

Silver wanted to believe him. But he couldn’t. 

Later, out on the deck, Silver asked Rackham’s sailing master what the status on the Eurydice was. He said they’d lost sight of the other ship, but that they’d keep looking. 

Silver went to inform Flint. “I thought Rogers would try to block us in at the mouth of the inlet.” 

“He’s out there,” Flint said. “He may be hiding, ready to lose his guns once we clear the island.”

“We should veer to starboard as far as is possible and be prepared to take fire when we do,” Silver said. 

Flint nodded absently, staring out ahead of them for some sign of the other ship. Silver walked away, frustrated.

Rackham saw him and stopped him. “Does our fearless captain have anything to say about the elusive Eurydice?”

“He suggested that she is likely lying somewhere in wait,” Silver said. “We should take measures to prepare for it.” He paused before saying, “In the meantime, why don’t you tell me what the fuck you’re actually doing here? You say you presented a plan to the Guthrie family to support our war. I sincerely doubt they’d go along with any plan that promised open support for the account.”

Rackham smiled at him. “You’re not the only one with questions. I’m curious about what is going on between you and Flint. Is it just tension between steadfast partners, or is it something else? Now, we could suffer under the weight of our respective questions. But wouldn’t it be more fun to start trading answers?” 

Without Flint noticing, they slipped back into the captain’s cabin. 

Rackham explained to Silver that he and Max had offered Marion Guthrie - the true leader of the Guthrie family - a significant stake in Nassau’s legitimate trading operations if she helped them retake the island from Woodes Rogers. But there was a catch. Rackham had to kill Flint - the man who would continue the never-ending circle of violence on the island.

“You can’t kill him,” Silver said at once. 

Rackham raised an eyebrow. “Really? I heard you sent six men into the forest after he took the cache to do just that.”

“If I wanted him dead, I would have sent more than six men,” Silver deflected. There was, of course, no amount of men who could’ve gotten the job done. 

“But you do want him out of the way,” Rackham gathered. 

Silver swallowed. He explained to Rackham about the treaty Rogers had wanted them to sign. Then he said, “I will get the maroons and the other pirates to agree to it. As for Flint... there’s an estate in Georgia. Outside of Savannah. Impossible to break out of. I intend to send him there. Would that work for Mrs. Guthrie?”

Rackham thought about. “I think I could convince her.”

“Good,” Silver said.

“Do you have any thoughts as to how we might achieve getting him there, though? Without killing him?” Rackham said.

“I’ll handle it,” Silver said. “Alone.”

Rackham didn’t seem surprised by that. Silver imagined that if he and Charles Vane had ever been in a similar situation, he’d have wanted it done alone, too. 

“Very well,” Rackham said. “I’ll place it in your hands. Don’t fuck it up.” 

With that, they both went back out to the deck to check on the status of the Eurydice.

Silver saw that the ship had reached the mouth of the inlet and they were heading back out to sea. Almost as soon as the sunlight hit his face, he heard Flint begin to shout.

“Helm! Hard to starboard! Put the wind on the port quarter! Mr. Featherstone, set the foresail as soon as we alter course!”

“What’s happening?” Rackham asked as Flint approached him and Silver.

“She was hiding behind the headland. We’re going to get hit,” Flint said. 

Sure enough, the Eurydice came into view and began to fire at will. 

And then the two ships collided. English soldiers began firing at them from the rail. 

Flint turned to Rackham. “Ready your men and lead them over the stern. Board them at the helm.”

“The helm?” Rackham asked. The stern and the helm were not where the ships had collided. 

“Just get them ready,” Flint said. To Silver, he said, “When you’re onboard, get below deck and find Madi.”

“Where are you going?” Silver asked.

“To turn the ship around,” Flint said. With that, he moved away from Silver and began climbing up the foremast. Silver lost sight of him. 

But whatever he intended to do, he accomplished it. The sails turned and the ships broke apart and shifted so that they could, indeed, board stern to helm. 

Silver immediately went below deck to search for Madi. 

In one of the rooms he searched, he found a soldier hiding behind a stack of crates. 

“What are you doing down here?” Silver asked him. “Are you a fucking coward?”

“Please, sir,” the soldier whimpered. “I’m just the cook.”

Jesus Christ. A year ago - just a year ago - that had been Silver himself. How far he’d come. 

Because of Flint. 

Silver pointed his sword at the soldier. “You had a prisoner here. Is she still alive?”

The soldier nodded. Shakily, he got up and led Silver to another room. 

Inside, Madi was lying on her side. For a moment, Silver thought she was dead. But then she moved. Silver made his way as quickly to her side as he could.

As they embraced, Silver realized the deck above them had gone quiet. Was the fight over already?

Silver and Madi cautiously made their way back up, uncertain of the victor. When they saw Rackham’s men moving about the ship freely and Englishmen in chains - including Rogers - they relaxed. 

When Madi and Flint saw each other, they smiled. In their eyes, this was only the first of many battles to be won. 

After the prisoners had been taken below deck, Silver, Flint, Madi, and Rackham met to discuss the road ahead. 

“Time is of the essence for what happens next,” Flint said. “It’ll take the better part of a day, maybe two, to secure the chest. Captain Rackham will ferry Madi back to the camp aboard the Lion to relay the news.” 

“I’d like to stay, actually,” Rackham interjected. “To help see the chest secured properly.” 

“Mr. Featherstone can see her back aboard the Eurydice,” Silver suggested. “Provided the majority of men crewing the Lion are ours, not yours, and you remain on the ship while we retrieve the chest. Yes?”

Silver would make sure all their men remaining on the Lion were loyal to him, and him alone. 

Silver could tell from Flint’s face that he knew something was wrong. But when the time came, he got in the longboat anyway. 

Once on shore, Flint led them through the forest. For a while, it seemed as though he might lead them to the cache without issue. But then he called,“We’ll rest up here,” and headed into a small clearing ahead.

Silver’s men looked at him, wondering what they should do. “I’ll deal with it,” he said, and followed after Flint. 

When Silver entered the clearing, Flint was sitting on a large rock at it’s center, his back to Silver. “You really are getting nimble on that thing.”

Silver knew he meant the crutch. Another thing he owed to Flint. “Pain is an exceptional tutor.”

“Hmm,” Flint said. “Well, we won’t be going any farther.” 

“Won’t we?” Silver asked.

Flint shook his head. “I won’t take another step towards that chest until I know for certain that I’m wrong about what I suspect is happening here.” 

Silver moved around so that he was standing in front of Flint. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please don’t do that,” Flint said. 

“And what is it you think is happening?” 

Flint sighed. “I show you the chest, the chest is brought out of the ground, and then I don’t know what exactly, but I doubt it involves returning it to the camp as planned. Am I wrong? Tell me I am and we’ll continue on our way.” 

“And then what?” Silver asked. “This war, your war, Madi’s war. You will face no obstacle to it as long as you and she stand for it, as long as the treasure powers it. Nothing will be able to stop it from happening.”

“Nothing but you,” Flint said. “Why would you want to do that?”

Did he honestly not know? “This is what it would be. Time after time after time. Endlessly. The measuring of lives and loves and spirits so that they may be wagered in a grand game. How much ransom can be afforded for the cause? How many casualties can be tolerated for the cause? Casualties that you will never be a part of? That isn’t a war. That is a fucking nightmare. And I cannot take a single step towards leaving this forest until I know it’s over.”

Silver pulled his pistol from his belt, but kept it at his side. 

Flint looked at it. “You can’t kill me.”

“No, but I can slow you down, make you easier to manage.” 

Flint looked exhausted. “This is how civilization survives. You must know this. You’re too smart not to know this. Time after time, century after century... they paint the world full of shadows and then tell their children to stay close to the light. Their light. Their reasons, their judgements. Because in the darkness, there be dragons. But it isn’t true. We can prove that it isn’t true. In the dark there is discovery, there is possibility, there is freedom in the dark once someone has illuminated it. And who has been so close to doing it as we are right now?” 

“This isn’t about England, or Europe, or freedom for the New World,” Silver said. “When I thought Madi was gone, I saw the world through your eyes. A world in which there is nothing left to lose. I felt the need to make sense of the loss. To impart meaning to it, whatever the cost. To exalt her memory with battles and victories. But beneath all of that, I recognized the other thing hiding in the spaces. The one whose shape you first showed me. And when asked, it was honest about the role it wanted to play. It was rage. And it just wanted to see the world burn. But now... I can have a life with Madi. And I will not live that life wondering if tomorrow is the day your nightmare finally takes her away for good.”

“So, what next, then?” Flint asked. “What decisions have you made about what our tomorrows will be?”

Silver fidgeted with the pistol in his hand. “I made arrangements to ensure that when we leave here, when I make it back to the camp to speak with the other crews and maroons, it is with the ability to put compromises in place that will diffuse any threat of widespread rebellion.” 

“All of this will be for nothing,” Flint said. “We will have been for nothing. Defined by their histories, distorted to fit into their narrative, until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children.”

“I don’t care.”

Flint held Silver’s gaze. “You will. Someday, you will. Someday. Even if you can persuade her to keep you, you’ll no longer be enough. And the comfort will grow stale. And casting about in the dark for some proof that you mattered and finding none, you’ll know that you gave it away in this moment on this island. Left it in the ground along with that chest.” 

Flint stood up and stepped toward him. Silver raised the pistol. Flint paused. 

“This is not what I wanted,” Silver said. He aimed the pistol for Flint’s shoulder and pulled the trigger. 

Flint fell backward onto the ground, bleeding and staring up at Silver, heartbroken. 

Silver could hear his men shouting and moving toward them. They’d heard the shot. Quickly, he pulled some bandages out of his pocket and knelt down beside Flint as best he could. He moved Flint’s shirt out of the way and placed the bandages. While he did this, he said, “Thomas isn’t where you think he is. He’s on a plantation in the colonies. I’m going to take you to him.”

He knew the place wouldn’t hold them forever. But maybe for long enough. 

Hopefully for long enough. 

Flint stared up at him with sad eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see,” Silver said. 

Hands stepped into the clearing, followed by the others.

Silver looked down at Flint one last time. “Remember, you’re supposed to be injured.”


	6. Chapter 6

**1716**

**Savannah, Province of Georgia**

James had his face buried in Thomas’ neck as they embraced. He could not quite believe this was real. 

When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other for a long while, uncertain where to begin. Eventually, Thomas managed, “How... why... what are you doing here?”

An impossible question to answer. James thought of all the things he was going to have to tell Thomas, to admit to him. He tried to start with the hardest one. “Miranda-” James said, but his voice broke. He looked down, away from Thomas. 

Thomas rested his hands on James’ shoulders. “I know about Miranda,” Thomas said softly, sadly. “And about Peter Ashe. And... Captain Flint.” 

James’ eyes shot back up to Thomas. “How...?”

“Abigail Ashe told me.” 

“Abigail...?” 

“She arrived here months ago,” Thomas explained. “When I found out who her father was, I mentioned to her that I knew him, and she asked if I knew a Captain James Flint. I had, naturally, heard of Captain Flint and had not thought that I knew him, but the ‘James’ bit gave me pause. A common name, but... I asked her to describe him. And, well, she described you.”

He went on, “She told me of the events that happened in Charles Town. Of course, she did not have the whole story. But she had enough that I could fill in most of the blanks.” 

James felt an immediate shame. He had killed the girl’s father. He did not know what other family the girl may have had, but whatever events had led her there, he suspected he may have been responsible for at least some of them. 

As James was processing this, Thomas noticed the bloody bandage peeking out from the collar of James’ shirt and, panicked, started to pull it aside, thinking the same thing that had happened to Miranda had happened to James. 

James quickly stopped him. “It’s fake,” he said. He gestured at the retreating backs of Silver’s men as they headed back toward the gate. “It’s for their benefit.” 

Thomas glanced at them in confusion. “Who are those men? Who do they work for? Who... put you in those chains?” 

“That’s... a long story,” James said quietly. 

Thomas nodded, seeming to understand. His gaze wandered over James’ shoulder. “I think the guards want you to go with them.”

James looked. The guards who had brought him there were waving him in their direction. 

Thomas gave him a final kiss before letting him go. “I’ll see you later.” 

\---

The guards led James to the laborer’s - they preferred to use this term instead of prisoners - living quarters, a set of three smaller buildings to the left of the larger plantation house. They explained that the two buildings on the end were the dormitories - one for the men and one for the women. The building in the center was the kitchen, where everyone was expected to take turns preparing meals. 

James was taken into the men’s dormitory. It was a large, but cramped space filled with bunk beds. There was no privacy. It was a far cry from having his own cabin aboard the Walrus. 

He was assigned a bunk and handed a uniform, the same one that Thomas and the other laborers had been wearing. The guards told him that he’d have the rest of the day to himself, and that someone would be by in the morning to assign him to a work detail. Then they left. 

With all the other laborers still at work, James was now alone. He stripped, removed the bandages from his shoulder, washed the remaining blood off his skin, changed into the uniform, and sat down on his bed. His mind drifted to the events that had brought him there.

After Silver had shot him and his men had entered the clearing, he had left it to them to manhandle him back to the ship. They had also been the ones to deposit him at the plantation. In between, neither Silver nor his accomplice, Rackham, had come to speak with James in the room they’d locked him in below deck.

Cowards, James thought. 

They had wanted to get James out of the way so that they could follow an easier narrative. In a way, he couldn’t blame them. Not everyone had the stomach for war. But if they honestly thought he was going to stay in this prison for very long... he had to laugh. He had been told that the place was impossible to break out of, but now that he was here, that seemed like an exaggeration. Marshalsea Prison, where James and Thomas had been held in London, where they had been locked in chains, had been impossible to escape from, at least without outside help. Oglethorpe’s was not that. 

The argument could certainly be made that James deserved to be in prison for some of the things he’d done as Captain Flint. But Thomas? Abigail? They had done nothing to merit a life behind walls. James was determined to get them out. 

He went over in his head everything he’d learned about the plantation so far. The external walls appeared to be about 20 feet high and had spikes on top, and the only gate he’d seen - the one he’d come through - was well guarded, as was the rest of the plantation. He’d seen more guards than laborers. And all of them were armed. On top of all that, the door to the dormitory had some sort of complex lock mechanism on it that the guards had had to open to get them inside. 

It was a lot. Likely too much for Thomas to have handled on his own. But the two of them together... he was sure they could come up with something. 

After some time, the laborer’s began to finish their work for the day and return ‘home’. The guards propped the doors open so they could come and go as they pleased. James looked for Thomas, but when he did not see him, he went to the kitchen to see if he’d gone there, instead. When he did not see him there, either, he figured he must still be working and decided to get something to eat while he waited. 

Besides being a kitchen, the center building was also a dining area with rows of wooden benches for the laborers to eat at. James accepted a plate and a cup of ale before finding himself a place to sit.

Supper consisted of bread, cheese, and pork that had been reheated from dinner earlier in the day. He had just taken a bite of bread when he heard someone laugh.

James looked up to see Thomas taking a seat on the bench on the opposite side of the table from him, grinning. “You look ridiculous,” he said, motioning to what James was wearing. 

“I’m wearing the same thing as you,” James said.

“Yes, but... it just doesn’t suit you at all,” Thomas said, still smiling. James couldn’t help but smile back. 

Thomas looked like he wanted to say something further, but was stopped by a loud gasp from behind him. James looked past Thomas to see Abigail Ashe standing there staring at him, her eyes wide. 

Abigail nearly dropped her plate before she was able to sit it down on the table beside Thomas. She then walked around the table and pulled James off the bench and into a tight hug. 

James hugged her back, though he was surprised by the affection. “Abigail, I’m so sorry-” he started.

Abigail cut him off. “You have nothing to apologize to me for,” she said firmly. When she pulled back, she asked the same question Thomas had. “How did you get here?” 

“That’s a long story, apparently,” Thomas answered for him. 

“I’m sure it is,” Abigail said. She gave James’ arm a light squeeze before walking back around the table and taking a seat beside Thomas. 

“What do you think of this place so far?” Thomas asked James as he returned to his seat. The question was innocent, but James knew Thomas well enough to catch the conspiratorial tone. 

James leaned forward, his voice low, and said, “I’m wondering how true it is that it’s impossible to escape from.” 

Thomas paused as a guard passed by. When the guard was far enough away, he said, “I haven’t tried in a while. Oglethorpe always has the security modified afterward. That’s how the standard is set here. If I can’t get out, no one can. Anyway, it was a pain in the arse learning the routines each time. And I was rather tired of getting shot in the head.” 

James glanced at Abigail, who strangely didn’t seem bothered by Thomas’ last remark. 

Thomas laughed. “It’s alright. Everyone here knows. Aside from the getting shot and not dying bit, there are other people who’ve been here as long as I have - twenty years. A long time to not have aged at all.” 

James frowned. “And no one... cares?”

“Well, if they do, what are they going to do about it? Kill me? Even if they could somehow, I’m not sure Oglethorpe would let them. Like I said, he uses me to keep the guards on their toes,” Thomas said. 

That doesn’t bode well for us getting out of here, James thought, feeling less optimistic than before. 

Abigail, however, looked contemplative. “I don’t think they know who you are,” she said to James. 

“What do you mean?” James asked.

“I work in the plantation house, in the office, with Oglethorpe. The name that was given for the new laborer that came in today was James McGraw, not James Flint,” Abigail said. 

James didn’t follow. Silver had given them a false name, so what? 

Abigail explained further, “What if you didn’t have to risk getting shot by the guards? What if you could just walk into the office and tell them who you really were? Whether they know you’re immortal or not, I don’t know, but either way... wouldn’t it worry you if you were holding someone as feared as Captain Flint? Wouldn’t you be worried what his allies, or even his enemies, might do to try and get to him? Wouldn’t you want to do whatever he asked? Out of fear of future reprisal?” 

James realized Abigail made a very good point. The place was difficult to break out of, but that didn’t mean someone couldn’t get in. Perhaps even the threat of it...

“How does one get a meeting with Mr. Oglethorpe?” James asked.

Abigail smiled. “I’ll put you on the schedule for tomorrow.”

\---

The next morning, instead of being taken to a work detail right away, James was led by guards to Oglethorpe’s office. The man was sitting behind a desk, writing. When James was brought in, he sat down his quill and gestured for him to sit in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. 

After he’d dismissed the guards, Oglethorpe turned to James and greeted him politely. “Mr. McGraw,” he said. “I don’t usually meet with laborers so early on in their stay here, but Miss Ashe said it was important. And you are a special case, after all.”

“A special case?” James repeated.

“I know what you are,” Oglethorpe said. “You were imprisoned with Thomas in London. Unkillable. Just so you know, I did try and go back for you after I saved Thomas from that nasty fate that priest had decided for him. But I was told you’d escaped.” 

Ah, so he does know. That, anyway. “You aren’t afraid I’ll do that here?”

Oglethorpe looked amused. “We’ve been dealing with your partner for the last two decades. If he didn’t get out, neither will you.” 

James sat back in his seat. “You think yourself a good man, don’t you? I hear that, for the most part, this place is used to save the disgraced sons and daughters of England, to keep them from further shaming their families without killing them. Looked at from certain angles, that may seem noble, but honestly, what crimes have these former lords and ladies committed? Sodomy? Illegal gambling? Theft? You may think you’ve seen the likes of me before, with Thomas, at least. But not really.” 

Oglethorpe looked utterly confused. 

“My name isn’t James McGraw,” James said. “It’s James Flint. Captain James Flint.” 

Oglethorpe turned pale. 

“So you know who I am?” James asked. “What I’ve done?”

“Yes,” Oglethorpe said. His eyes kept darting toward the door. He was probably regretting dismissing the guards. 

“You know,” James said casually, “I really don’t like how you run this place. Actually, I think it probably shouldn’t exist.” 

\---

A few weeks later, James Oglethorpe left Savannah and returned to London, to a lofty position within the British Army. He bequeathed his plantation, at James’ suggestion, to Thomas, under the name Thomas Hamilton, a power move against the priest whose choices had started the whole chain of events. 

James and Thomas had no idea what they planned to do with the estate, but they knew they sure as hell weren’t going to keep prisoners.


	7. Chapter 7

**1716**

**Charlotte Amalie, St. Thomas Island**

Despite her previous status as a prisoner on his ship, and despite her lack of sailing knowledge, Ras was able to get Captain Rowe to agree to take her on as a member of his crew, mostly through convincing him that her inability to die might come in useful one day. 

He assigned her as the cook, and thought she had not initially been thrilled about this, the fact that her cooking didn’t give anyone “the shits” - as had apparently been the case with the previous cook - helped some of the more suspicious crewmen warm up to her being there, which was certainly not a bad thing.

That didn’t mean, however, that they let her in on their plans. She knew that they were still on the hunt, pursuing ships, despite the immeasurable wealth they’d already accumulated. But they also seemed to be planning - from what she could overhear - what Rowe had spoken to her about when she’d still be in the brig - the free colony they wanted to create.

Ras was still skeptical of this plan. Though a place where people could live freely was a nice thought, it felt like a short-sighted solution. What was the reason they felt the need for a free colony in the first place? What was the threat that was causing so much of the world to not be free? Could that threat be eliminated? Could everywhere be free?

Coincidentally, her auburn-haired pirate captain in the West Indies, as well as his maroon allies, had appeared to ask themselves the same questions. She had seen them battle and defeat English soldiers, and then prepare to do it again, on a larger scale. 

Though they had the funding - a cache of gems - they were still a relatively small force, if they were planning on doing any real damage. Perhaps they expected more people would come to the cause after they had a few victories under their belt. 

Ras wondered if she could persuade Rowe and the rest of the crew to be among those people. While the West Indies was not of immediate concern to them, the colonial rule they experienced there was not so different from what was going on in Africa and the East Indies. If the war for independence from it started in the west, who’s to say it couldn’t spread? Maybe one, tiny free colony wouldn’t be necessary. 

So she went to Rowe and explained to him about the dreams she had. At first, understandably, he had not believed her. She had no real way to prove it to him. But if a person could rise from the dead, couldn’t other unbelievable things be possible? 

Eventually, he had taken the idea to the crew, telling them that he’d gotten the information from a well-traveled sailor in a tavern. After a heated discussion, a majority vote had determined that they would go. They prepared the ship for a long voyage and set sail shortly after.

Now, two months later, they were sitting in a tavern on St. Thomas being told that the war had ended before it had even really begun. 

Ras had suspected as much. Though at first they had had some successes, everything had gone to hell after a Spanish force had invaded the island they’d captured. This had led to a chain of events that, about a month after Rowe’s crew had left Île Sainte-Marie, saw the auburn-haired man being held at gunpoint, and then shot, by the curly-haired man who she’d believed was his friend. Men had put him in chains after that, and a week later he’d been dropped at a prison, the same prison where the blond-haired man was being held. To Ras’ amusement, the prison hadn’t stayed a prison much longer after that. But that didn’t stop the damage - or lack thereof - that had been done in the meantime.

The pirates they spoke to - men who had joined the maroon-pirate alliance, as they called it - told them that a treaty had been signed that guaranteed that existing maroon communities could remain intact, provided that they reported any escaped slaves or pirates who requested sanctuary with them in the future to the law. This had summarily ended the alliance - and the war.

This had all been orchestrated, they were told, by a man named Long John Silver after Captain Flint - the leader of the war effort - had mysteriously retired. The men seemed to think that ‘retired’ meant murdered, and they were none too happy about it, but they were too afraid of what would happen to them if they questioned it, so they’d quietly signed the treaty and left. 

Ras gathered from this that Long John Silver was the curly-haired man, and Captain Flint was the auburn-haired man. 

Captain Flint.

It was good to finally have a name for at least one of the people in her head. But that didn’t change the fact that she still didn’t know how to find him. She knew he wasn’t dead, as these men believed, but the prison he’d been taken to - the one he now appeared to run - could have been almost anywhere in the Americas. 

“Where is this maroon island, the one that was the base of operations for the war?” Rowe asked the men.

The men frowned. One of them said, “You can’t go there. Didn’t you hear what we said? There’s a treaty-”

“Yes, I heard you,” Rowe said impatiently. “But I ask again - where is it?” 

A map was drawn and handed over to Rowe. The island was about a week away.

Rowe and Ras left the tavern and headed back to the ship. 

“Do you really think it’s wise to go there, given what they said?” Ras asked.

Rowe shrugged. “Unless we see a patrol ship, it’s unlikely that they’d bother to report us, provided that we don’t piss them off.”

Ras nodded. If the maroons were even half as angry - and Ras suspected they’d, in fact, be more angry - as the pirates in the tavern had been, they’d likely at least be interested in listening to the proposal Rowe had for them. 

Of course, the proposal would need to be modified now that they knew the war wasn’t in full swing, as they’d hoped, but they had a week to figure it out. 

In addition to that, once they were back on the ship, Rowe insisted that he and Ras continue their sword fighting lessons. These had started after Ras had first suggested they go to the West Indies. “It doesn’t matter if you can die or not,” he’d said. “If you want to be involved in a war, you ought to know how to fight one.”

Between the lessons and discussions about the proposal, the next week went by fairly quickly.

\---

**Maroon Island**

They rowed longboats to the shore of a remote, mountainous island and looked around for any sign of the maroons they hoped to speak with.

The beach was empty.

“Do you have any idea how far into the forest the camp is?” Rowe asked Ras. 

“There are traps,” Ras said. “We should wait here. Someone will come out to see what we want.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Elliot said. Elliot was Rowe’s quartermaster, and the man who had stabbed her and dragged her onto the ship all those months ago, meaning that he, like Rowe, knew about her abilities. Though she had come to believe that he wasn’t as bad as she’d initially witnessed, she knew he was among the few crew members who still didn’t trust her. He did not like that Rowe was basing so much of his plans on her ‘visions’. 

“I think she may be,” Rowe said, pointing to the treeline. Three men had stepped out onto the sand and started walking toward them. They each had a pistol tucked into their belts, though none of them made any moves to draw them.

When the men reached them, one of them said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Rowe sighed. “Yes, we’ve heard about the treaty. But I have something I’d like to offer you that might make the treaty irrelevant.”

The three men exchanged looks, clearly unsure what to do. 

“You can come with us,” the one who had spoken before finally said. “But not all of you. Only who is required to make this offer. And you will leave your weapons here.”

It was decided that Rowe, Ras, and Elliot would go. They handed their weapons off to other crewmen and followed the maroons into the forest, being careful to step only where they were told.

After some time, the forest opened up and the group stepped into a large camp beside a river. It was exactly how she’d seen it in her dreams. The camp was surrounded by a wooden palisade, and inside were wooden huts with thatched roofs. A lookout tower reached up from the center of the camp, likely how the maroons had known of their arrival. 

Rowe, Ras, and Elliot were taken into a meeting hall and told to wait there. A few minutes later, a young woman stepped inside and greeted them. Ras had seen the woman before. She was a friend of Flint’s. 

“I’m told you have something you’d like to offer us,” the woman said. 

“You’re the leader of this camp?” Rowe asked her. 

“No, my mother is the leader here,” the woman said. “But anything you have to say to her can be said to me. My name is Madi.”

“Well, Madi, I’m going to get right to the point,” Rowe said. “Over the last year or so, my crew and I have amassed about £100 million from various hauls in the East Indies. Our original intention was to use this money to fund the creation of a colony that existed outside of any rule structure - including colonial. But we’ve been told that idea was unimaginative,” he glanced at Ras, “so we came all the way here to lend our support to your war, only to arrive and find out it’s no longer happening. We are, however, still willing to offer you whatever aid you may need to resume your efforts, if that’s something you’re interested in.” 

Madi stared at him.

“We’ve come from Madagascar,” Ras said. “That’s how far the stories of what you’ve accomplished here have traveled.” The last bit wasn’t exactly true, but Madi didn’t need to know that. 

Madi found her voice. “We have no force with which to fight a war now,” she said sadly. “Everyone has gone.”

“My understanding is that before you signed the treaty, you’d lost your previous funding source,” Rowe said. “A cache of gems? If your allies were to find out you had another source, would they not come back, regardless of whatever ridiculous paper they’d signed?”

Madi shook her head. “When people came before, it was after they’d heard Nassau had fallen, not because of money. If they were to come back... something more than that would have to be done, to prove that we were serious this time. But even then, many would still be too afraid. Long John Silver has made threats against anyone who would try to start any further rebellion.” 

The way she said ‘Long John Silver’ was strange. Her tone did not carry the contempt that Ras had heard from the men on St. Thomas, nor was she frightened. She sounded anguished, as though his betrayal had been deeply personal. She had not seen the two of them together, but if Flint was friends with both of them, it made sense that they’d have been friends, as well. 

“Part of the reason they’re afraid of him is because they think he killed Captain Flint,” Ras said. “But that’s not true.”

Madi looked at Ras curiously. “No, it isn't.”

“Do you know where he is?” Ras asked.

Madi hesitated. “I do.”

“If Captain Flint were to come back, and if we were to find a way to prove to your allies that your cause was worth joining again... is the war something you and your people are still committed to?” Elliot asked. 

Rowe cleared his throat. “In short, do you want our help?”

Madi did not answer right away. She seemed to be weighing a lot of different variables. When at last she spoke, she said, “I think there are many people here, and elsewhere, who will be resistant to it. The trust that held the alliance together has been broken by those loyal to John Silver. If Flint were to come back... and I do not believe he left willingly, despite what I’ve been told... that may help matters. There are some who would follow him again, without question. Though I do not know how we would convince the majority of the viability. Not again.”

She chewed her lip. “But, if anyone could help... _us_ ," she said, looking at the three of them, "to figure that out, it would be Flint.”

Rowe grinned. “So, let’s go get Flint.”


	8. Chapter 8

**1716**

**Savannah, Province of Georgia**

Madi was surprised at how small Savannah was, barely worthy of being called a town. Though it was clearly being used by wealthy, white plantation owners and merchants to exchange goods, based on the dress and speech of the other travelers she encountered in the port. Rowe and his predominantly black crew received a few strange looks, but no one said anything.

Elliot, Rowe’s irritable quartermaster, asked a passing sailor where they could find the stables, and he directed them on a short walk from the port. They made their way there and rented a horse and cart, and asked for directions to the Oglethorpe plantation. Once they knew the way, Rowe, Elliot, Ras, Madi, and two of Madi’s bodyguards headed to their destination. 

Madi was not sure what to make of her new allies. She was worried that she had trusted them too quickly. Not that they had done anything that indicated they meant her or her people any harm, but what they offered seemed too good to be true. Could the war that she and Flint - and so many others - had wanted still truly happen? 

Her mother and the other maroon elders, understandably, had been reluctant to go along with their proposal, but Madi had been able to convince them. After all, what did they have to lose? With the treaty, they could no longer legally provide aid to escaped slaves or pirates running from the law. Yes, their existing community would be safe, but half of the point of it was to help others. Madi struggled to see a future where she would have to turn people who needed them away. 

As they neared the plantation, they caught sight of a stone wall that was nearly 20 feet high and was topped with spikes. Something in Madi’s gut twisted. Silver - she could no longer bring herself to call him John - had told her that he’d taken Flint to a prison - one that was impossible to break out of - but seeing the reality of it was so much worse. He did not deserve this.

But as they reached the gate, they saw that it was wide open, no guards in sight. 

Madi frowned. “Are we sure this is the right place?”

“It’s the right place,” Ras said confidently. 

As their cart rolled through the open gate, Madi glanced at the other woman. There was something odd about her. She often knew things that it didn’t make sense for her to know, and neither Rowe nor Elliot questioned it. Madi had wanted to ask Ras how she knew that Flint was alive, when so many believed him dead, but it had never felt like the appropriate time. 

The cart came to a stop in front of the plantation house and they all got down. Madi looked around. She still did not see any guards, but there were a handful of people working in a nearby field. They had stopped what they were doing to look at the arriving group curiously, but they did not look concerned. 

Madi waved a hand at them, hoping they could tell them where Flint was, but behind her, Ras opened the door to the plantation house and stepped inside. Rowe and Elliot followed her, so Madi and her guards did, too.

They stepped into the foyer. There was a curving staircase that led up to the second floor, and a crystal chandelier hanging above it. The place looked elegant, unlike anything Madi had ever seen before. 

Ras did not seem phased. As if she knew where she was going, Ras stepped through the foyer and into a hallway. They all followed her. She led them into an office toward the back of the house where a blond-haired man was sitting behind a desk looking through a ledger. He looked up when the group entered. 

A grin spread across his face. He did not look surprised to see them at all. He almost looked like he’d been expecting them. His eyes fell on Ras. “You,” he said to her.

“You,” she said back to him. 

The man walked around the desk and Ras moved forward to embrace him. When they broke apart, they just stared at each other, as if they couldn’t quite believe the other was real. 

“My name is Ras,” Ras said.

“I’m Thomas,” the man said. 

Thomas. Flint’s Thomas? It had to be. 

But... Madi watched Thomas and Ras’ interaction. They didn’t know each other, but they also clearly did. Silver had told Madi what Flint had told him, about Flint’s and Thomas’ immortality, including about the strange dreams. Was Ras the woman from those dreams? Meaning that she was immortal like them, and had the same dreams? It would certainly explain a lot. 

Thomas looked over Ras’ shoulder at the rest of the group. “It’s good to finally meet all of you.” 

Before any of them could respond, a teenage girl slipped past them into the room. She looked between the group and Thomas. “What’s going on?”

Thomas gave the girl a reassuring smile. “Abigail, do you happen to know where James is?” 

“I think he’s upstairs,” Abigail said. 

“Would you mind going and fetching him?” Thomas asked. 

Abigail nodded and hurried out. 

Abigail. As in... Abigail Ashe? Madi had heard that name before, too, in one of the stories Silver had told her about his time with Flint before they’d met the maroons. She was the daughter of the former governor of Carolina, who had been kidnapped by the pirate Ned Low before eventually ending up on Flint’s ship and safely being returned to her father, who Flint had later killed. 

What on earth was she doing in Savannah?

Madi didn’t have much time to ponder the thought. A familiar voice behind her said, “You’re here.”

Madi turned. Flint stood just inside the door to the office, Abigail beside him. Madi rushed forward and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said into his neck. 

Flint hugged her back. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Madi knew this. But she also knew that Silver likely wouldn’t have made the choices he had if it weren’t for her. However irrational it was, she did feel some guilt.

When Madi stepped away, Flint looked to Ras. Madi saw the same recognition in his eyes that she’d seen from Thomas. “Thank you for bringing her,” Flint said to Ras.

“Of course,” Ras said. 

Rowe cleared his throat. “Now that that’s all taken care of, can we get down to business?”

So they explained to Flint and Thomas what they were doing there - that Rowe and his crew were willing to fund a war against colonial rule in the West Indies, the only problem being there wasn’t currently a war.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Madi asked Flint. “To restart the war?”

Flint seemed as stunned by Rowe’s proposal as she had been, but he considered her question carefully. “How many ships do you have?” he asked her.

“None that could be taken into battle,” Madi said.

“I believe we only have one ship - ours,” Elliot said.

“But we have money,” Flint said. He looked thoughtfully at Madi. “A good number of your men were taught how to operate a ship. How many of them would still be willing?”

“Over a hundred,” Madi answered. 

Flint stroked his beard. “We could buy two or three ships out of Abaco. That should be enough for an attack on St. Ann’s Bay.” 

“Not Nassau?” Madi asked.

“I think it would be best to leave Nassau alone for a while,” Flint said quietly. 

He continued, “When we were making plans for a first strike before, a few men who were familiar with St. Ann’s said that there were only two ten-pound guns on the beach and about eighty men-at-arms. It wouldn’t take more than a day to seize the town. And St. Ann’s supplies Bridgetown, as well as other islands. They would be weakened without it.”

“Do you think that would be enough to bring your former allies back? Or does something need to be done with this Long John Silver character?” Rowe asked.

Flint flinched and glanced at Madi. “Do we know where Silver is?” 

Madi shifted uncomfortably. “No. I banned him from the island the day after the treaty was signed, and he left the day after that with Tom Morgan’s crew. I don’t know where they went.”

“I see,” Flint said. He did not look surprised, only sad. “Silver is a schemer, but he’s not a war man. It’s unlikely he or any of the men he’s with would be able to put up much of a resistance once the war had actually begun. I think a victory or two would help alleviate any fears our allies might have about what Silver might do to them. Many of them wanted this as badly as we do. They’ll come back.”

This response pleased Rowe. “When do we leave for Abaco?”

\---

It was agreed that they would leave for the Bahama island the next day. Elliot went back to the ship to prepare the crew, while the rest would spend the night at the plantation. 

After supper and meeting some of the other former laborers - prisoners - who would be running the estate in Flint's and Thomas’ absence, Madi wandered outside to find Flint sitting alone on the porch. She went and sat down beside him.

“You know,” Flint said, “if I knew some random people were going to show up from halfway around the world to fund this war, I wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble to try to keep that damn cache.” 

Madi chuckled. “If only they’d shown up sooner.”

“If only,” Flint agreed unhappily. 

Madi changed the subject. “So, you really walked into Oglethorpe’s office, told him who you were, and he just...left?”

Flint laughed. “It was a little more complicated than that - and running the plantation on our own is going to be a little more complicated than that - but yes.” 

Madi shook her head. “How did that not occur to Silver?”

“Silver is a clever man, but he doesn’t always think things through,” Flint said. 

That was true. Did he really think that neither Flint nor Madi would try again, despite the threats he had made, despite what he’d tried to do to them? If so, he must really not have known them at all. 

Just then, Abigail stepped out onto the porch on her way back to the dormitories. She bid Flint and Madi goodnight as she went. 

“How did she end up here?” Madi asked when Abigail was out of earshot. She had gathered during supper that the girl was who she thought she was.

Flint sighed. “Apparently, she tried to kill Colonel Rhett, the man who killed Miranda. Her uncle, her next of kin after her father died, sent her here when he heard.” 

That sweet girl had tried to kill a man? Madi didn’t know whether to be scared or impressed. 

“Miranda,” Madi said carefully. “Silver mentioned her. She was a friend of yours?”

Flint’s voice cracked as he said, “Yes. I’d known her for a very long time.”

A very long time, indeed. Madi nodded her head. “You know I know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” Flint asked. 

“About... your immortality,” Madi said. It felt strange to say out loud. 

Apparently, Flint hadn’t known. His eyes went wide. “Silver told you?” 

“Yes.”

“And... it doesn’t bother you?” Flint asked. 

Madi shrugged. “Why should it?” she asked. At the end of the day, Flint was still Flint. He was her ally, her friend. 

Flint didn’t know what to make of that answer. He stared at her. 

Madi just smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’m going to bed,” she said. She’d been given a room on the second floor of the plantation house for the night. “Goodnight, Flint,” she said over her shoulder as she walked back inside. 

“Goodnight, Madi,” Flint called after her. “And Madi?”

“Hmm?” Madi said, looking back at him. 

“Call me James.”


	9. Chapter 9

**1716**

**Saint Ann's Bay. Jamaica**

They had purchased three ships out of Abaco, sailed them back to Maroon Island, and prepared those willing to launch an attack against St. Ann’s Bay. A few weeks later, they had set sail for the island, and in less than a week, the town was theirs. Once the men-at-arms had been taken out, the townspeople had not put up much of a fight. James, Thomas, Rowe, Rowe’s crew, Madi, and the maroons had quickly and easily set up shop. 

It didn’t take long for the news that Captain Flint was alive and well to spread across the West Indies. The first ships showed up four days after St. Ann’s had been taken, all filled with maroons and pirates who had been part of the previous war effort. It didn’t take long for others to join them. Not as many as before, but enough to start. 

To James’ relief, Madi had taken charge of bringing order to the town and dealing with the new arrivals. Though he knew he would have to eventually join the discussion as to what the next steps would be, he needed a moment to breathe.

He had not stopped to process everything that had happened since Skeleton Island. While onboard Rackham’s ship on the way to Savannah, he had been heartbroken and angry, not in his right mind. After he had arrived at Oglethorpe’s, he had been consumed with relief at the sight of Thomas, though the anger - not to mention the heartbreak - had not gone away, and was still there when he’d threatened Oglethorpe to give up the plantation. The anger had still been there while the former prisoners had been trying to figure out how to run the plantation on their own. It was still there now.

He wanted to stop being angry. As he had learned before, anger would only get him so far. 

Unfortunately, however, it was not just his emotions he had to process. Ras - the new immortal he’d been dreaming about for all those months - was finally with them, in the flesh. And she had a lot of questions. She had come to terms with her healing abilities and her inability to die prior to having met James and Thomas, but she had not exactly known that meant she was immortal, as well. She had become distressed at the thought, and had asked James and Thomas repeatedly if there was some way out of it. 

It was during one of these conversations that Madi had interrupted them to tell them that John Silver had arrived on the island, along with Tom Morgan, Israel Hands, and Ben Gunn. 

“He asked for an audience with me,” Madi said to James, “but I do not wish to speak to him. Who do you think it would be best to send? Rowe? He should be impartial.”

James sighed. He’d suspected Silver would show up at some point. Though he didn’t believe any of the current crews on the island would be particularly concerned about this presence - they’d already disregarded his order not to engage in further rebellion - he was worried that it would keep them from gaining any additional allies. Silver needed to be persuaded to leave. Rowe, as clever as he was, didn’t know Silver well enough to be able to accomplish that. But James did. He hoped. “I’ll go,” he said. 

That moment he needed to breathe was going to have to wait. 

\---

He found Silver waiting alone in an office in the meetinghouse. His back was turned when James walked in, and when he first turned around, his expression was soft, expecting Madi, but when he saw that it was James, his features quickly shifted. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Silver spat at him. 

“Madi is not ready to talk to you,” James said. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to hit Silver or hug him. He tried to achieve a tone somewhere in between. “I said that I would come in her stead.” 

Silver flinched at that. He looked down. “I suppose I can understand that,” he said quietly. “Though I think you know that wasn’t what I meant.”

James grunted. “Did you mean why am I here and not in the prison you left me in? Well, for one thing, I wasn’t interested in being in prison. And for another, Madi came to get me. She asked for my help. Was I supposed to say no?”

“You were supposed to convince her that this war is a bad idea,” Silver said. 

James shook his head. “How would I have done that? This war means more to her than it ever could to you or I. She is a black, formerly enslaved woman whose people are living in chains all across the Americas. This war means seeing them freed. You think I’m going to convince her that’s a bad idea?” 

Silver looked uncomfortable. “That will end eventually.” 

“When?” James asked. “In a hundred years' time? More? How many will have died by then?”

“How many will die in your war?” Silver countered. 

“Again, it’s not just my war,” James said, getting frustrated. “And in the grand scheme of things, I do believe it would be less.”

“What if one of those who die is Madi?” Silver asked.

James paused to choose his words carefully. They’d been here before. “I do intend to protect her to the best of my ability-”

“That’s worked out well in the past,” Silver interrupted.

James ignored him. “I do intend to protect her to the best of my ability,” he repeated. “But John, if she wants to fight in this war, die for this war, that is her choice. You can’t take that away from her. Not again.” 

“Says the man who cannot die,” Silver said. 

James held Silver’s gaze. “I am well aware that she is at greater risk than me. That doesn’t change that what I said is the truth.” 

Silver looked like he wanted to argue further. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but couldn’t find the right words. Finally he said, “There’s nothing I can do to stop you this time, is there?” 

James shrugged. “You’re smart. I imagine there’s something you could do. But to end this war the first time, part of your plan entailed lying about me. Now that people know the truth, you’ve lost some of your credibility. The best thing you can do, at this point, is to leave this island. Your being here may dissuade some from joining the cause. If you’re really concerned about Madi’s life, you should realize that having as many allies as possible is our best option.” 

Silver thought about this. “If allies are what you need... shouldn’t I stay?” 

James’ eyes narrowed. “What?”

“I’m an ally,” Silver said. 

“An ally is someone we can trust,” James said. 

Silver actually looked hurt. “You can trust me.”

“Can I?” James asked.

“You said before that you couldn’t fight this war without me,” Silver deflected. “Is that not still true?”

“A lot has happened since then,” James said.

“But can you honestly say that I wouldn’t be beneficial to you?” Silver pressed. 

They both knew the answer. If Silver was back at James’ side, he would likely be able to regain the trust he’d lost, and be able to aid him in much the same way he had before. But he’d also be able to betray him - and Madi - in much the same way as he had before. 

Could he risk it? James did have advantages that he didn’t have before. Thomas, Ras, a stronger relationship with Madi. Not to mention Rowe and his men, who had their own reasons for needing this war to succeed. 

“Madi and the rest of the leaders would need to approve of this,” James said slowly. “If they say no, will you leave?” 

“Yes,” Silver said immediately. 

James wasn’t sure whether he believed him, but he went to summon the others anyway. 

\---

The discussion to determine whether Silver and his men could join them did not get off to a good start. Madi and the other maroons were staunchly opposed to it. They were joined, to James’ surprise, by Ras, who did not believe his intentions were pure. James wondered just how much she’d seen of Silver in her dreams of him. 

On the other side, Rowe and Elliot, speaking on behalf of their crew, supported it. As many bodies as they could add to the mix, the better. Thomas also approved, though James believed that may have been for his benefit. Though the two of them had yet to talk much about Silver, James got the sense that Thomas knew Silver had been - and was - important to him. 

Silver himself sat quietly throughout, not bothering to provide much in his own defense. Every time he did try to speak, Madi glared at him.

James eventually got tired of the discussion and slipped off to the opposite end of the room to take a break. Rowe joined him. They sat quietly for a time before Rowe asked, “What happens if we win this war? What happens if we are able to light a match that spreads to the East Indies? What happens if we win that, too, and colonialism ends for good? What happens to you and Thomas and Ras? Would you become mortal?”

“There are evils in the world to fight besides colonialism,” James said. “For now, it’s just the most prevalent one.”

“Hmm,” Rowe said. “But... just humor me. If you were to become mortal, to regain the ability to grow old, to grow old with someone... who would you want to spend that time with?” He looked to Thomas, Silver, and Madi. 

James was saved from having to answer by Obi stepping into and informing him that the other crews were growing impatient waiting for a plan of action to be finalized. 

James quickly got up and followed Obi out to the main room of the meetinghouse where representatives from each of the crews were waiting. 

It had been about a month since St. Ann’s had fallen from colonial rule, meaning that many of the islands that relied on resources out of the port were getting desperate. James had had sent ships out to try and intercept any attempts to request aid elsewhere, though they suspected some had gotten through. They needed to begin to act quickly before England and other European forces could gather their strength.

The plan that the crews had agreed on was that they would start in the Barbados port of Bridgetown and begin working their way north, through the French West Indies, to St. Croix, Tortuga, Spanish Florida, and finally to the English colonies, the last stop being Boston. They had already begun to prepare their ships and their crews for this, and estimated that they’d be able to set sail soon. James approved the plan with a few modifications, and let the men go. 

James then considered going back to see what had been decided in regard to Silver’s fate, but he figured he’d find out eventually either way. Instead, he went back to his room at the inn where they’d all be staying and fell asleep. 

\---

Some time later, he was awoken by a knock on his door. He climbed out of bed to answer it.

It was Madi. She looked upset. “Silver and those loyal to him will be allowed to join our cause.” 

“What happened?” James asked. Though he was mostly relieved to hear this, he knew Madi’s feelings about Silver had shifted dramatically since his betrayal, unlike James’. While he was angry with him, there was also a part of him that still cared for Silver and wanted the opportunity to repair their relationship. 

“I have been convinced that if we are to accomplish everything we wish to accomplish, it would be best to have a united force, including Silver,” Madi said, though she did not sound convinced. 

“It will be alright,” James reassured her. 

Madi stepped into James’ room and sat down on his bed. “There are conditions. He won’t be allowed to hold a prominent role like he did before. And either my men or Rowe’s will have to supervise anything he or his men do.” 

James sat down beside her. “That should be enough.”

“What if it’s not?” Madi asked.

James reached for Madi’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It will be. We’re going to do this this time.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!!

**1718**

**Boston, Province of Massachusetts Bay**

The war that they had started in the West Indies had done as they’d hoped and spread north to St. Augustine, to Charles Town, to New York City, and finally to Boston. It had taken two years, but they’d done it.

Along the way, they gathered enough support - from pirates, maroons, and others tired of colonial rule - that they were able to set up governments and militias in each of the locations they hit to keep things going and protected while others moved forward. So far, there had not been any retaliation, though they were sure England and the other European nations they’d crossed would soon be dispatching their forces to reclaim what they believed was theirs, if they hadn’t already. They would need to be prepared.

After giving instructions on how to set up quick, efficient fortifications, James left the men in the hands of Rowe and went to look for Thomas. He found him standing outside a burying ground, watching as bodies from both sides of the war were brought there to be buried. 

When James came up to stand beside him, Thomas asked, “Do you think we’ll end up in a place like this one day?”

“I suppose so,” James said. “Others... of our kind have died. Eventually. It just might be a while.”

“Hmm,” Thomas said. “We haven’t tried anything like this before. The war, I mean. Yes, we’ve been a part of other wars, but we’ve never led one. To be responsible for so many deaths when we ourselves cannot die...”

James put a reassuring hand on his back. “War or no war... the way things were going, people would have died anyway. This way, there’s a chance more people in the future can live, and live happily.” 

Thomas tilted his head to rest it against James’. “I know you’re right. I just... I hope this can be maintained. That we can keep the English from coming back and burning down everything we’re trying to accomplish.” 

“We will,” James said confidently. “It may be difficult, but we will.”

They stood there together for some time, thinking of all that had happened in the last two years and all that was still yet to happen. The road ahead was murky, but James still believed there was light at the other end of it. After they'd come this far and done so much, there had to be.

\---

After his talk with James, Thomas went back to the house they were using as a base of operations. John Silver was in the kitchen preheating the oven to bake a pie. He jumped when Thomas walked in.

Though they had spent some time around each other, Thomas and Silver had barely spoken directly, usually speaking around each other to James or Rowe. And for the most part, Silver and his men kept to themselves, except for when Silver broke that dissociation to do small acts of service, usually for James. Today, apparently, it was cooking.

“Not trying to poison us, are you?” Thomas joked. 

Silver didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm. “Of course not,” he said quickly.

Thomas chuckled. “Your men are helping with the fortifications?” 

“Yes, but as you can imagine, I’m not much good with hard manual labor,” Silver said, tapping his stump. “So I thought I’d make myself useful in another way.” 

Thomas watched Silver place the pie in the oven. When he’d stepped away, Thomas carefully asked, “When you found out I was at that plantation, why didn’t you pay to have me brought to you? To James? Did Oglethorpe not let you?” 

Silver looked surprised at the question, then uncomfortable. He turned away from Thomas, busying himself with tidying the kitchen. “I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?” Thomas asked. “As Madi tells it, you believed reuniting James with me would unmake him to who he was before he thought he’d lost me. There was no need to lock him up for that.”

“I thought you might reject him,” Silver said quietly. “If that was the case, I wasn’t sure if he’d try to continue the war. I needed to eliminate that option.” 

“I see,” Thomas said. “And do you still think you made the right decision then, given where we are now?”

Silver turned around to look at Thomas. He looked conflicted. “I had no way of knowing any of this was possible.” 

“Didn’t you?” Thomas asked. “You knew James, who he was, what he was capable of.”

“Yes... and there was a point when I believed he was a god, that he could do anything,” Silver said, “but after what happened with Madi... I realized that wasn’t true. I went to a dark place, where there was nothing but unending horror. I couldn’t see that that wasn’t all there was.” 

“But you see that now?”

Silver smiled. It made him, for once, look his age. “Yes, I think I do.” 

\---

Ras walked with Rowe as they watched fortifications being built around the city. Though the wood would not be as efficient as stone, it was the best they could do, given that they did not know when the English might arrive. 

“A messenger arrived from the East Indies this morning,” Rowe said. “Calcutta has fallen.”

The revolution had made it all the way to the Mughal Empire. “Good,” Ras said. 

“I realize I never asked you why you chose to join this effort,” Rowe said. “Was it just a way to get me to bring you to James and Thomas?” 

“Partly, yes,” Ras admitted. “But it was also the right thing to do.”

Rowe glanced at her. “How did a person born off the west coast of Africa, well away from slave ships, on an island with no European interference, come to be a pivotal figure in a globe-spanning war against colonialism?”

Ras grinned. “I died.”

Rowe laughed. Ras wondered whether he often thought of the responsibility he held in her death. It seemed strange to think about now. Since then, they had become friends. But she would always remember what he was capable of. 

“Surely it must be more than that,” Rowe said.

Ras thought about it. “Madagascar is an independent nation, but people stop there from all over the world. Pirates, mainly,” she said, looking at Rowe. “They bring with them stories. Of the horrors of slave ships and slavery. Of the horrible punishments - and deaths - that are inflicted on those who don’t play by the rules. If I could have a life free of those things, why couldn’t everybody else?”

Rowe nodded thoughtfully.

“Were you not born in Madagascar?” Ras asked.

“No,” Rowe said. “Do you remember when we first met and I told you about the unkillable white men - who I now know as James and Thomas - who captured slave ships and turned them over to the prisoners?”

“Yes.”

Rowe stopped walking, as did Ras. “I was on one of those ships,” he said. “The others on the ship... they just wanted to go back home. But I knew that would be pointless. They’d just come and kidnap us again. So I vowed that I would one day create a safe place where no one would have to worry about being stolen from their homes again. I did not imagine then that that place would be so much of the world.” 

They started walking again. 

They would walk like this through many cities over the years. Ras would continue the tradition, even after Rowe’s death. 

\---

After the pie was cooked, Silver went back to the house where he and his men were staying. Hands was leaning on the brick wall outside. “Done playing servant for the day?” he asked.

Silver glared at him. “It’s best to keep on their good side.”

Hands grunted. “It’s been two years and we haven’t done shit to harm their war. If they don’t trust us by now, no amount of pies is going to change that.” 

Silver knew that. Of course he knew that. But in the last two years he’d realized some things that he hadn’t been able to before. All of the choices he’d made in his life, up to meeting Flint and after, had been based on the notion that life could never be much more than suffering, that you had to take what good things you could get while they were available. 

It was surprising to him that it was during a war that he began to see things another way, Flint’s - James’ - way. While there was, naturally, the death and destruction any war had, Silver had seen so many people flock to their cause, relieved at the possibility of a new way of being. Out of the horror, life was growing. 

The pies and other gifts were a ‘thank you’ to James for not giving up on him. 

“Maybe this war wasn’t such a bad idea after all,” Silver said, testing the waters with Hands. 

Predictably, Hands rolled his eyes. He and the rest of Silver’s men had followed him through the war because he’d asked them to, but none of them really cared about it, not like Silver had come to. That was why they’d joined him in the first place.

“You’re not still worried about it getting your girl killed?” Hands asked.

Madi was not ‘his girl’. She and Silver had not reconciled, as he’d hoped they would. He’d made peace with that. 

“I will always worry about that,” Silver said. “But I can’t keep her from doing what she believes is right. I’ve already made that mistake.” 

Hands sighed. “I liked you better when you were angry all that time.”

Silver shook his head and moved past Hands to step into the house. “Anger will only get you so far.”

God, he was starting to sound like James again. But this time, a better version. 

\---

Madi sat in a chair in the hearing room of the Massachusetts Bay State House flipping through the pages of a book. James walked in and sat down across from her.

“A few years ago, a married woman committed the crime of what this record calls ‘the act of uncleanness’ with a Native man. The law ordered that she be whipped while pulled through town roped to an oxcart. She was further ordered to wear a badge on her sleeve, identifying her crime, whenever she appeared in public. If she were to be found in public without the badge, the emblem would be branded on her cheek. The man’s punishment was less severe – he was whipped publicly while tied to a post by a neck halter – because the court found that he had been ‘enticed’ into his crime,” Madi summarized what she was reading. She looked up at James. “What on earth?” 

“Cultural tradition carried over from England,” James said. 

“I will never understand how people go along with these things,” Madi said.

James shrugged. “It’s just what they’re used to. But we can change that.”

Madi closed the book. “Yes, we can.”

After a pause, James asked, “Do you intend to stay here, when all is said and done? Or will you go back to the West Indies?” 

“I have not decided yet,” Madi said. “I want to be where I can do the most good.” 

“I’m sure you will figure out where that is,” James said kindly. Madi studied him. The anger that had been a part of his features in the aftermath of Skeleton Island had faded with time. He looked softer now, more like he had on New Providence before the Spanish raid, when she’d first gotten to know him. 

“What will you do?” Madi asked him. 

James stroked his beard. “Thomas and I would like to finish what we’ve started and go to the East Indies, fight with them. After that, we plan to go to China and see if we can find Feiyan. Ras is still dreaming of her, since they haven’t met, so she should be able to help us with that.” 

Madi looked down. “I won’t see you again, will I?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” James teased. “I’m not so easy to get rid of.”

Wasn’t that the truth.


End file.
